Revelations & Regrets
by Eideann
Summary: Three years have passed since Skeletor's forces broke free from the Mystic Wall . . . not much has changed, except that everyone is three years older, and Adam has reached his breaking point. Only Teela seems to see . . . (2002 Series., first season only)
1. Revelation

Revelations and Regrets 

Chapter One

Teela crossed the garden on her way back to the main building of the palace after her stint on guard duty. The sun was setting behind the building, and she was weary, nevertheless, she glanced up, as she always did, at Adam's window. 

She was surprised to see it dark. She'd heard him telling Mekanek that he was going to his rooms. Perhaps his father had sent for him, or some such, though that hardly seemed likely with as disgusted as the king was growing with his only son. 

When she squinted in through the wide doors that led out onto the prince's balcony, she noticed that there was movement inside, and she saw a brief flash of green and yellow fur. If Cringer was in Adam's room, then it was a sure bet that Adam was as well. But it was early yet for him to have retired . . . .

A moment later, Cringer came padding out onto the balcony. He spied her and took a few steps back. She wondered what was going on until, suddenly, the great cat ran to the edge and took a great leap off. He jumped first to the high stone wall around a fountain, then to the ground, legs bent to absorb the shock of the fall, then ran towards her. 

_What the –_ Teela was alarmed by the cat's behavior. She scanned the dark room again, closer now, and saw a faint glint of light, as if the remaining sunlight were reflecting of some shiny object. She took off running, made a crazy jump and missed the floor of the balcony. It was just too high up. She ran into the building instead, taking the steps two at a time as she rushed to Adam's suite.

She'd been worried about her old friend for some time, now, ever since she'd overheard an odd conversation between Orko and her father, the king's man-at-arms. 

---

"Adam seems very depressed, Man-at-Arms," Orko had said as she approached her father's lab. 

Depressed? she'd thought incredulously, considering his behavior at the court gathering that night. _How does Orko define depressed?_ The prince had flirted gaily with the young women of the court, earning himself glowers from his father. The louder the giggles had grown, the more angry the king had seemed. Teela had found herself getting annoyed. Skeletor was still threatening the kingdom, there were problems down south with bandits, and Adam was acting like it was time for a party. 

Surprisingly, Adam had retired early, and the young people dispersed. At the time she'd suspected that he'd gone somewhere to meet with a selected young girl, but . . . .

"Of course he's depressed, Orko, how could he not be?" her father had said, startling her beyond measure. _Father thinks he's depressed? And that he has reason?_ "You've heard the way his father speaks of him these days."

"Sure, I have," Orko had said, sounding, of all things, angry. "It's not fair. He's doing so much to help the kingdom, and everyone is always mean to him. Even Teela, and she's supposed to be his friend." That remark had made her utterly furious – how dared Orko judge her behavior towards Adam? They were friends, sure, but as his friend, did she have to ignore his irresponsibility? His flightiness? And just what was _Adam_ doing to help the kingdom?

"Quiet, Orko. I'm not sure I closed the door all the way," her father had said

"It's just not fair that he has to keep this a secret!" Orko had protested, but she'd heard footsteps approaching and ducked around a corner. A moment later, there had been a click as her father shut the door to the lab very firmly. 

---

Cringer was close on her heels as she ran up the steps. Not for the first time, she wished that the cat could talk. What was Adam doing up there? Was he alone? In danger? She couldn't be sure, and without certainty, she wasn't taking any chances. She rounded the corner into the passageway, pounding towards Adam's door, thankful for a complete lack of witnesses.

Over the next few weeks, she'd watched Adam closely for signs of depression, wondering on occasion if they'd been talking about a different Adam. He seemed universally cheerful. Gradually, it had dawned on her that the sheer level of cheer was a bad sign. He was never downhearted, at least not in public. He was always the life of the room, smiling, laughing, telling stupid jokes that the court girls ate up.

But he never told anyone about his problems, even though, as she observed, he was always there to hear about other people's. She'd seen him comforting cooks, footmen, older court ladies, and even, once, a young courtier who was unhappy about his love life. The people he talked to always seemed happier afterwards, but she'd never once caught him talking to anyone about his own problems.

Yet, those problems were legion. Despite the fact that over this time she had conscientiously never been 'mean' to him, she observed his father consistently belittle him and disregard him. That was when she started noticing the pain in his eyes. It was there when he looked at her as well. And she found herself stopping remarks cold on her lips that she couldn't imagine making. Not now . . . But they'd come so automatically to mind that she must have said those things, or things like them, many times over the past months, or even years. 

Through it all, Adam remained consistently cheerful and flighty. When problems arose, he disappeared, as always, only to reappear with quip once He-Man had solved things. Yet her father, who was not one to suffer fools gladly, never scolded him, never spoke harshly to him . . . 

She didn't know what was going on, but it was clearly not a simple as Adam being a coward.

When she reached Adam's door, she found it locked from the inside. She knocked urgently, but there was no response. Leaning back, she kicked at the spot just below the doorknob, smashing through the latch and flinging the door open.

Adam looked up, eyes bleary, seeming startled by her sudden entrance. She scanned the room and saw that he was alone, then closed the door hastily, turning around to face him.

His eyes narrowed, and he stood up, swaying slightly on his feet. "What do you want?" he asked. In his right hand he held a water glass, a tumbler, full of something dark. On the floor beside the chair he'd been sitting in was a bottle of the finest brandy they had in the palace wine cellars. On the other side of the chair was something she was having a little more trouble making out. She took a few steps forward, and he walked towards her, glaring. "I said, 'What do you want?'" His voice was louder this time, and though it wasn't slurred, it sounded almost too precise, as if he were overcompensating.

"Adam?" she said softly. "Are you all right?" Cringer brushed against her legs as he walked past her to stand by his master's side, his eyes worried.

He stood, staring and blinking at her in perplexity. "Am I all right?" he repeated. Then he started shaking his head, his eyes closing and his shoulders starting to shake as well. The sounds that emerged from his throat after a moment were awful. She cringed at the horrible travesty of laughter; it was devoid of anything remotely resembling humor or happiness. His face was a rictus of misery. As she started to take another step forward, his expression changed abruptly. Raising his hand he threw the glass in her direction, missing her head by mere inches. Brandy spewed everywhere, and the glass crashed against the wall. 

"Adam, what's going on?" she exclaimed, alarmed by this uncharacteristic behavior.

The crash seemed to have broken Adam out of his hysterical laughter. He looked at her again, seeming more lucid. "What, did my father send you?" His voice was hard and angry.

"No, I came because I was –" 

He cut her off. "Because if you expect me to believe that you came here willingly, you're sadly mistaken. You haven't spent five minutes in my company in three years that weren't mandated by our positions."

This was true, though of late she'd tried many times to catch him alone, but he'd proven elusive. "I came because I was worried," she said firmly.

"Maybe I _should_ go see my loving father," he said as if he hadn't heard her speak. From what she could see, it seemed likely that he hadn't really registered her words. He started past her, but she caught his arm. He reeked of alcohol, and his carriage was a dead giveaway. He didn't need to go before the king in this condition.

"Adam, wait."

He turned on her, looming over her. She hadn't really noticed how much he'd grown over the last few years. He was not his father's size, and probably never would be, but he had a good seven or eight inches on her in height, and he was not a small man by any means. 

She kept her grip on his arm despite the sudden awareness of his size and strength. Just because he didn't choose to fight didn't mean he was a weakling, as she'd had ample evidence on those occasions when they'd worked together on some task of heavy lifting. "Adam, now is not the time to –"

He grabbed her by the upper arms and shoved her backwards, hard. She stumbled back into the wall, thumping solidly and making a pitiful squeak from a combination of surprise and pain as her head thunked against the wall.

At the sound she'd made, he halted in mid-stride, turning to her with his eyes wide. He started shaking his head. She reached up and touched the back of her head, wincing slightly. It was an instinctive gesture, and she wasn't prepared for the reaction it caused.

He stepped back, shaking his head. She took a step away from the wall, reaching out towards him just as he turned. He took off running towards the balcony edge, and she had a flash of insight that horrified her.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she chased after him, diving into his legs to bring him down with a huge thud that shook the room. Keeping her hands on him, holding him down, she crawled up beside him and pulled on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were streaming with tears, and he tried, very gingerly, to pull away. 

"What was that?" she demanded, putting her hand on his cheek. "What were you doing?"

He shook his head. "Let me go, Teela. I can't – I don't –" 

Touched to the core by his misery, she pulled him into her arms and started rocking him. "Adam, don't do this to yourself, please." 

Adam looked into her eyes, and the vulnerability there took her breath away. "Why do you care?" he asked, sounding as if the notion puzzled him. "You've been so angry with me . . . so hateful . . . I didn't even think you liked me anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous, Adam," she said. "You're my friend, I love you."

This seemed to break down his last vestiges of control and he collapsed onto her neck, sobbing. She held him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, one leg thrown over his to keep him from trying to get away again. She was uncertain what to say, but murmured affectionate reassurances while she stroked his hair.

He cried for a long time, wrenching sobs that shook his entire body, but eventually, the sobs died down and he just lay limply on the floor, not asleep, but not doing anything but lying there and breathing. After a few minutes, she tried to get him up, to his feet, and managed to walk him over to the bed, where she helped him lower himself down. Taking off his shoes and loosening his belt, she regarded him briefly, trying to decide if it would be more trouble than benefit to get him further undressed. Deciding that it would, she covered him up with a blanket and set about cleaning up the mess.

She swept as many of the shards of the glass as she could up onto a dustpan improvised out of a clump of paper from his desk. Dumping them into the trash, she figured she'd go out in a few minutes and fetch a broom and proper dustpan. She turned back and saw that Cringer had stretched out along his master's body and she walked over to stroke his side. The cat tilted his head up and glared at her, then turned and bending up somewhat, glared over at the chair. 

Taking his look for a command, she walked over to the chair, first picking up the brandy and closing it tightly. This she would take away with her when she went, she thought, setting it on a table near the door. Then she squatted and picked up the cloth covered bundle on the floor. She took it over to the glass doors, where the light from the moons could show her what she was looking at more clearly. 

Though the colors were muted by the moons' light, she could see that she was looking at one of the velvet banners that showed the king of Eternia's coat of arms. They hung them up on the wall during feasts and such. There was something hard and odd-shaped wrapped in it. Pulling it out, she stared in utter astonishment.

It was a small dagger, unsheathed and very sharp. It was, if she was not mistaken, something Adam's father had given him on his thirteenth birthday, a blade that had been Captain Mirro's during the wars. 

Put together with the half-empty bottle of brandy and his attempt to throw himself off the balcony, it added up to a very unpleasant idea. She turned slowly to look at Adam who now lay sleeping in his bed. Cringer nodded at her once, then rested his head on Adam's chest. All thoughts of leaving him alone fled abruptly as she realized that he had truly been on the verge of suicide. Whether he would have done it or not was an open question, but he had clearly been considering it.

Very carefully, she put the blade down across the room and looked around for its sheath. When she found it, she put the blade away and dragged a chair over to Adam's bedside. Picking up the weapon, she walked over and sat down, putting it in her lap and covering herself with a throw. 

Then she settled in to wait for morning, and the awakening of a prince who was going to have a massive hangover.


	2. New Beginnings

Teela stayed awake all night. Every time she felt her energy wane and her adrenaline start to crash, she reached under that blanket and touched the sheathed dagger. That woke her right up. What was she going to do in the morning? She didn't know if she should tell the king – the Elders only knew what spin he'd put on his son considering suicide. Since Randor was so completely oblivious to his son's pain – _be honest, Teela, till you had it shoved in your face, so were you_ – what would he think to find that his son wanted to end his life?

She wasn't sure, and because of that, she didn't think she wanted to take this to him.

Taking it to the queen would be worse. Marlena would be devastated, and Teela didn't want to see that. She also might be very angry at the king. One other thing that she had noticed over the past months since she'd started paying attention was a distance and tension that was growing up between the royal couple. Randor seemed to be as oblivious to that as he was to Adam.

When dawn came, she squinted her eyes and continued to wait. She'd sent a message to her father telling him that an old friend had an emergency and that she'd need to skip out on her shift this morning. She hadn't told him which friend, preferring to keep that to herself until she'd had a chance to talk to Adam. And she certainly wasn't going to tell her father this in a note.

About two hours past dawn, Adam began to stir. Cringer had disappeared to do cat things, and would, presumably, be back soon, but for now he was gone. Adam groaned and rolled over on his back. "I wish I could just die," he muttered, not noticing her presence. Teela gulped, hoping devoutly that those were merely the words of a man with a hangover and not a genuine wish. He shifted to the side of the bed, pushing back the covers. "How did I –" He broke off and stared at her in silent astonishment. "Teela, what are . . . ." His voice trailed off and she saw the awakening realization in his eyes. "Elders and Ancients!" he breathed, dropping his head into his hands. "What have I done?"

"More to the point, I think, is what you haven't done and aren't going to do," she said. "Good morning, Adam."

"I have to use the privy."

She stood up as he did, wrapping the weapon in her throw and putting it down on the chair behind her. "I'm coming with you," she said firmly. When he gave her a wide-eyed protesting look, she shrugged. "I won't watch, but after last night, I'm not willing to leave you alone until we've had a long talk, and maybe not even then."

He nodded, and, flushing a deep crimson, led the way into his bathing chamber. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, just as scarlet with embarrassment as he was. Pretending she couldn't hear anything, she stood looking away until he walked back up to her. He washed his hands, which she privately took for a good sign, and led the way back into the bedroom. She edged around him back to her chair and picked up the blanket-wrapped dagger, cradling it in her arms.

Looking somewhat perplexed, Adam walked over to his bed and sat on the side. Teela settled uneasily on the edge of the chair. They both were silent for several minutes, neither meeting the other's eyes, and finally Adam cleared his throat. "You said something about wanting to talk to me?" he said.

Biting her lip, she reached into the blanket and pulled out the dagger. His eyes widened when he saw it and he blanched, looking away. "What is this?" she asked

Gulping his emotional reaction down, he turned back to her, clearly aiming for nonchalance, and said, "It's my grandfather's dagger, Teela, you've seen –"

She shook her head angrily and he broke off, pressing his lips together nervously. "That's not what I meant and you know it!" she snapped. "What were you going to do with it?"

He looked down at his hands. "Probably nothing," he said. "Why did you come in here anyway?"

Cringer opened the door to the bedroom with his paw, thumped down to the floor and gave it a push shut with his tail as he entered. "Actually, Cringer came and got me," she said. The cat padded over to the bed and jumped up behind his master, putting his head under Adam's hand and shoving.

The prince got the hint and started scratching. "Cringer came and got you?" he said dubiously. "It's not like he can talk, Teela."

"No, but when he leaps down off your balcony and runs at me, it's kind of a subtle hint," she said wryly.

"I'm sorry I hit you last night," he said, his brows furrowing. "At least, I think I –"

"Hit me?" she exclaimed. "You pushed me and I stumbled. Then you tried to throw yourself off the balcony." He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Teela stood up and put the dagger down in the chair, going over to sit with Adam on the bed. "Why, Adam? Why would you want to kill yourself?"

Adam shrugged and looked away, wincing at the movement of his head. "I don't. Last night was just bad. Really, really bad."

"How's your head?" she asked. He didn't answer. "What happened last night?"

"What does it matter?" he said, sighing despondently. "Father's not going to change how he looks at me, and that's the way things are." He sounded unbelievably depressed and miserable. Evidently he heard the tone, because he straightened up, drawing away from her. She saw lines of rigid control cross his face, and he said, "However, you can trust that I won't pull anything like that again, so you can just give me my grandfather's dagger back and let me get –"

"No," she said simply. "I love you, Adam, you're my best friend. I seem to have forgotten that for awhile, but I've remembered." She stuck her hand in his hair and tousled it gently to try and alleviate the glare he was giving her. He winced and she stopped. "I'm sorry, I've been a real shrew, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have," he said. "Why the change? Because I don't want pity." His jaw set angrily. "Pity would be worse than contempt."

She shrugged. "I don't do pity, Adam. I just put two and two together awhile back and have been watching . . . and I figured out I was being a prize harridan."

His eyes widened. "You figured it out?" he asked. "You know . . ." He trailed off, staring at her, an absolutely dumbfounded look on his face.

"I don't know anything specific," she said. "I just know there's something that you're hiding." His expression closed down.

"You think I'm hiding something?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. She got the feeling he was waiting to be kicked.

She shook her head. "I _know_ you're hiding something, but I _know_ you. You're not doing anything wrong, you wouldn't. I don't know what the secret is, and it doesn't matter to me." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "What I _do_ know is that my best friend has been miserable for a long time and hiding the fact, and that I helped to make him that way. And I'm sorry."

He looked as vulnerable as she'd ever seen him. "You're . . . you're sorry?"

She grimaced. "I know it doesn't do much to make up for all the things I've said, but I am sorry. I've been watching you, and you're always there for other people, but no one's ever there for you." She straightened her shoulders militantly. "Well, that's changing. I'm here for you, Adam, now and always."

Adam stared at her and tears started rolling down his face. "Teela, I – I –"

"Don't cry," she said gently. "You're dehydrated enough."

He laughed, and then winced, squinting his eyes. "Did my head just explode?" he asked in a very small voice.

"No, it didn't," Teela replied.

"Damn," he said in heartfelt tones.

She got up, snagged the dagger off the chair and went into the bathing chamber, bringing back a huge glass of water. "Here, drink this." He took it and looked at it disgustedly. "Drink it, Adam. Remember what my father always told us. A hangover is just your body's way of telling you that you're dehydrated. Drink."

He drank it down, and she went and refilled it. Then she handed it to him and went over by the window, looking out. There, that's what she needed. Reaching down, she plucked her com link off her belt and lifted it to her lips, trying to remember today's schedule.

Pressing the relevant code, she heard a familiar voice say, "Mekanek here." She could see him across the courtyard, pausing.

"Mek, I need you to do me a favor," she said.

"Teela? Sure. I don't have duty for another two hours."

"Good. Would you come to Prince Adam's suite? I need your help with something." His neck extended, and she saw him peering in the direction of the suite. She stepped back out of obvious view. "But don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Sure, Teela. Be there in a jiffy."

He disconnected and she saw him head across the courtyard at a rapid pace. She turned back into the room to find Adam looking at her oddly. "Mekanek?" he asked.

"I've got something I have to do, and I don't want to leave you alone."

He nodded, placing the glass, still half-full, on his bedside table. She walked over and picked it up again. "Here," she said, handing it back to him. "You need four full glasses."

"What, do you want me to slosh when I walk?" he asked in an echo of his old humor. It made her throat constrict to see how much effort it took him.

But she quirked him a sideways grin and responded in kind. "Nope. I just want your headache to go away so you'll be less cranky."

He gave her a mock-glare, took the glass and downed a large swallow. "There, happy?"

"Not yet." There was a knock at the door and she went to get it. He stayed on the bed, drinking his water.

She opened the door and let Mekanek in. He looked her up and down. She doubted she looked her best, but she shut the door behind him and caught his arm as he started to go towards Adam. He turned to her, tilting his head curiously. "Mek, can I trust you to keep something under your hat for a little bit?"

"What?" he asked.

She bit her lip, frustrated by the question. "Look, can you just trust that I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious, and that I wouldn't try to get you into trouble?"

Pursing his lips, Mekanek shrugged. "Okay, I'll bite. It'll stay under my hat."

"I don't want to leave Adam alone, so could you just stay with him?" She glanced over at Adam who had his attention focused on Cringer's ears. "And don't let him have any sharp objects, okay? Or go too close to the edge of the balcony."

Mekanek let out a low whistle. "Like that, is it?" he asked. "A broken heart?"

She gaped at him, then recovered. "Something like that," she said. "Look, just stay with him and keep him safe. I'll be back before you're due for your shift."

"Sure, Teela."

She picked up the bottle of brandy as she started toward the door. "Oh, and see if you can get him to drink a couple more glasses of water, would you?" Then she turned and called, "I'll be back soon, Adam, okay?"

He just waved, still scratching Cringer's ears as if that were the most important task in the world.


	3. The Secret Is Out

**Chapter 3 The Secret Is Out**

Mekanek turned to Adam as Teela shut the door behind her. The boy was ignoring his presence completely. _The boy . . ._ Mekanek snorted at himself. Adam was nineteen years old and had been of age for three years at this point. _That doesn't make him not a boy._

The long-necked master walked over to his prince and sat down in the chair across from him. "So, Adam, which girl broke your heart?"

The prince looked up from his attentions to his feline and raised his eyebrows perplexedly. "What?" he asked.

Mekanek raised his eyebrows. Teela hadn't exactly mislead him, but what was wrong with the kid? "So, what's up, then?"

Adam shrugged. "The ceiling, the sky. I haven't looked out so I don't know if there are clouds, but I'll wager there's at least one bird on the roof."

Grimacing, Mekanek sighed. _Teenagers._ "I could check on that if you want," he said dryly. "Seriously Adam, what's bugging you?"

"Nothing," the prince replied, looking down at Cringer's ears.

_If that cat could talk, I'd be willing to be he'd have a tale and a half to tell._ "Something's eating at you. I mean, you look like hell, Teela's worried . . . . What's going on?"

Adam glared at him. "Look, I know she set you to babysitting me, but you don't have to pretend like you care or anything."

Both the expression and the words hit Mekanek like a blow to the gut. _Pretend like I care?_ "Adam," he said, "I don't know what I've done to make you think I don't care, but -"

"Not a hell of a lot," the prince said, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed, and Mekanek began to see what he was thinking.

He sighed, looking down, then he stood up and sat down on the other side of Cringer, facing Adam. "I know your father's hard on you, Adam, but he does love you. He wouldn't be so hard on you if he didn't."

Adam stood up abruptly and crossed the room, stopping just in front of the door to the privy. "I need to get cleaned up. You'd better come in and make sure I don't slit my wrists in the tub." With that he turned away, walking into the bathing chamber.

Mekanek hastened after him, no so much afraid of slit wrists as concerned by the level of distress and hostility the boy showed. When he got inside, Adam had dropped his clothes on the floor and was climbing into the tub. There was a bench nearby, theoretically for the removal of shoes and such. Mek hooked it over and sat down, leaning back against the wall, trying to think of something to say.

Adam solved the problem by speaking himself. "Yeah, my dad sure does care." The boy glared down at the water. "He cares enough to notice everything I do wrong, and makes sure I hear about it." As soon as he was done speaking, he doused his head in the tub, making answer impossible. Mekanek bit his lip. He'd spoken to Randor more than once, trying to persuade him that his harshness wasn't going to bring the boy around. To Mekanek's mind, Adam was just acting like a teenager with a famous and overbearing father. To Randor's . . . only the Elders really knew what Randor thought of Adam, really. And _they _were even less talkative than Randor had been of late.

But from what Mekanek could see, Randor's behavior wasn't going to help, in fact it was likely to make matters worse. Adam came up and grabbed at his shampoo so angrily that he knocked the soap right off the edge. Mekanek picked up the slippery object and handed it to his prince, then said, "Have you tried talking to your father about it?"  
"What's the point? It always comes down to questions I can't answer. 'Why do you run away . . .'" Adam shook his head. "As if it's that easy."

Mekanek tilted his head, finding his phrasing odd. "When you say 'can't answer,' do you mean that you can't? Or is it that you have no answer to the question?"

Adam shrugged. "What difference does it make?" He dunked his head under again to rinse out the shampoo. Then he did a quick scrub of the rest of him and climbed out, grabbing a towel. Mekanek stood up and backed off, waiting for him to dry off and get a robe on.

He watched, arms crossed, feeling slightly foolish while the prince brushed his teeth, applied deodorant, and shaved the soft stubble that still served him for a beard. Then Adam preceded Mekanek out into the bedroom again, toweling his hair dry.

When the boy was seated again, still rubbing at his hair with the towel, Mekanek rocked up on the balls of his feet and down again, "Can I ask you a question, Adam? Completely without judgement or rancor."

"Sure," Adam said, not looking up.

"Why _do_ you run away?"

The prince froze, then slowly his eyes raised to Mekanek's. "Do you really want to know, Mek?" The master nodded definitively. He knew Adam. He'd known the boy since he was a babe in arms. If there was a reason, it was likely a good one, though perhaps one his father wouldn't understand.

Adam raised an eyebrow and his gaze intensified. There was almost a testing quality to his tone when he spoke. "What would you say if I told you that I'm He-Man?" he asked.

Mekanek's jaw dropped, and he felt almost an almost physical shift in his mind as connections came together. Adam was He-Man . . .

"Well?" Adam said, eyebrow raised skeptically.

"It explains so much," Mek said slowly, still reeling from the alteration in his perception.

Adam blinked at him. "You believe me?" he asked incredulously.

Mekanek nodded. "It - it just makes so much sense. It answers all the questions anyone's ever asked." Wrapped up in wondering just why he hadn't figured it out before, he didn't immediately notice the panicked look on Adam's face.

"No!" the prince exclaimed, shaking his head frantically. "I was lying!"

"Adam!" Mekanek stared at him. "That's ridiculous."

The prince reached out and grabbed him by the upper arms. "Seriously, Mek, I was lying! I'm not He-Man." He forced a laugh. "It's silly to even say such a thing. Everyone knows what a coward I am!"

Mekanek put his hands on Adam's arms and gently detached him, walking him over to sit down on the bed. This was obviously serious. "First of all, everyone does not think you're a coward." He pushed his goggles up on his head to look the prince in the eye, something he didn't often do. "It's actually been a subject some of us have discussed because we know you're not a coward." _Or at least you never were._

Grabbing his arm, Adam gazed intently into his eyes. "But I _was_ lying, Mek. You have to believe me!"

"Adam, you're not a liar," Mekanek said.

The prince shook his head desperately. "You say that now, but if I was telling the truth, doesn't that mean I'd have been lying to you all along?"

After a moment's thought, Mekanek shook his head. "Not directly, and lying by omission is different. No one ever asked you if you were He-Man, and when we asked if you knew who he was, you always told us that He-Man was 'a friend.' That's true enough." Adam opened his mouth again, but Mekanek shook his head. "Sorry, Adam, I'm still trying to understand why no one has figured it out yet. It all fits together so well."

"Mekanek, you can't believe what you're saying," Adam said urgently, hand gripping Mekanek's arm almost painfully tight. "You just can't!"

"Okay, kid, I sense that there's more here than meets the eye," Mekanek said. He gave Adam a serious look. "Why 'can't I' believe you? What's the problem?"

Adam stared at him for several long seconds, then slumped, burying his face in his hands. Mekanek had to bend down close to hear what he said. "Because no one's supposed to know."

He put a hand on his prince's back, rubbing it reassuringly. "Well, I'm not going to tell anyone else that I know. But someone besides you has to know." He glanced down and was hit by another startling realization as his eyes met golden ones. Blinking at the great cat who was nuzzling the backs of Adam's hands, he said, "Cringer's got to know, but he can't be the only one. Who else knows?" Adam didn't immediately reply, and Mekanek rubbed his shoulders. "Come on, Adam. It's okay."

* * *

Teela strode quickly to her own quarters where she made a hasty toilette in preparation for what was bound to be a difficult interview. When she looked herself again, she walked swiftly through the halls and out into the open, wearing her business face to deter those who might want to stop her to chat. Finally, she opened the door to her father's workshop and walked in. He was bent over an invention, and he appeared to be alone. One never knew, however, since Orko went everywhere.

She shut the door with unnecessary firmness behind her and turned the little latch that would lock it. Not that Ram-Man couldn't simply open it no matter what, but it was better than nothing.

Her father jumped at the sound of the door, and he turned to see her, his left eyebrow rising as he observed her locking the door. "Are we alone?" she asked before he had time to speak.

"I sent Orko out to look into that magical interference in the south a half-hour ago, so, yes, we are alone." He leaned back against the table. "What can I do for you, Teela?" he asked. "How did the emergency go last night?"

"Not great," she said. "I need at least a half hour of your time, if you can spare it."

"Of course, Teela. Let me just . . ." He turned away and fiddled with something for a moment. Then he gestured her to precede him to the table where he held small meetings.

She seated herself and gazed levelly at him. "Father," she asked, "do you know what Adam did last night?"

Duncan blinked and said, "Whatever it was can't have been so bad that you'd -" He shook his head. "Does this have something to do with your emergency? Did he - I don't understand."

"So the answer is no," she said. "What would you say if I told you that Adam holed himself up in his room with the lights off and got thoroughly, comprehensively drunk?"

He blinked. "I'd say that was alarming. Teela, what's going on?"

She pursed her lips. "Father, it's abundantly clear that _something_ is going on with Adam that not everyone's aware of. It's also abundantly clear that you are one of the few people who do know what's happening." He gaped at her in much the same way Adam had. "Now, I don't care what the secret is. If I needed to know, you'd tell me."

"Teela, I - well, of course I would but -"

She shook her head. "We're getting off the subject, and I don't have tons of time." Sighing, she said, "Look, Father, I don't know quite how to put this without sounding harsh, but you've been neglecting him. He's miserably unhappy, and if you're the only person who knows what his secret is, you should be helping him more than you are."

"Teela, I give him all the help and support that I can. He's an adult, and there are -"

"He tried to throw himself off his balcony last night," she said flatly.

A dead silence fell across the table. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were round as dinner plates. "He did what?" he asked slowly.

"He tried to kill himself, Father. Cringer came and got me - me, you note, not you - and took me to his room. Adam was sitting alone in his bedroom drinking brandy out of a glass like this." She pointed to a glass of iced chai sitting on the side of his work table. "He had his grandfather's dagger ready to hand." She shook her head. "He and I had words, and he shoved me away. Then he got this terrible look on his face like he'd done something horribly vile and ran towards the balcony. I had to tackle him." Her father had remained uncharacteristically silent during this recital. "Father, you didn't even know he was drinking, and the Elders only know if this is the first time he decided to get drunk on his own."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, then he cleared his throat. "You're right, I have clearly been neglecting my duty to him. But, forgive me for asking, Teela, but, why are you suddenly interested? You've shown him nothing but contempt for the past few years, and -"

She nodded impatiently. "And I've apologized for being an idiot and a shrew. And I'm over it." She glared at him. "It might have been nice if you'd said something like, 'don't be so hard on him, there's a lot going on that you can't know about.'"

"Oh, yes, and three years ago you would have simply said, 'Yes, Father,' and everything would have been hunky dory?" he asked irritably. "You would have disregarded it, as you ignored all the attempts I did make to get you to moderate your behavior."

She flushed. "Well, still, you should be paying better attention to him now."

"He's not alone, is he?"

"No, Mekanek's with him. I told him almost nothing, and he seems to be taking it for a standard angst moment." She sighed. "I'm going back, though. I'm not sure you shouldn't take me off the schedule for tomorrow."

Her father's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Adam's the old friend with an emergency?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you -"

"Tell you over the com link that he'd attempted suicide?" Teela asked pointedly. "It just seemed a little unwise."

"What do you plan to tell the king?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. "Nothing!" she said savagely. "He's as observant as a . . . as a . . . he just keeps at him - picking at him! This is his fault!"

Her father raised his eyebrows. "Teela, dearheart, I'm not sure you can lay it all at Randor's feet." She glared at him and opened her mouth, but he wasn't finished. "You've come to your senses, and I commend you for it, but until now you've been every bit as cruel to Adam, sometimes crueler." She drew back, feeling as though her kind and gentle parent had slapped her. Gulping, she tried to hold back the tears of shame that threatened to pour freely. "If he's a few weeks or even months behind you in his realization, that still doesn't measure well against three years."

She nodded, looking down at her hands. "I know. I've apologized, and it won't happen again."

"Good." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you were there for Adam last night. But we have to tell the king what's happened."

Teela's head flipped up. "What?"

"He's our king, Teela. We've both sworn oaths of loyalty to him. Failing to tell him that his son attempted suicide would be a betrayal of those oaths."

"But what's he going to say? What's he going to do?" Teela shook his head. "Don't we owe loyalty to Adam as well?"

"Teela -" From his tone, she could tell that he was going to very reasonably insist that she do as he said.

There was a knock at the door, and her father got up to see who it was. "Your highness," he said and Teela found herself grinding her teeth as Randor came in.

"How's your progress on the . . . oh, good morning Teela. Are you feeling well?"

Her expression must be dyspeptic, because he was looking very concerned. She grimaced and said, "I'm fine.

"Randor, we need to talk quite seriously with you," her father said, shutting the door and locking it behind him. "Please, come sit down."

"What . . . is something wrong?" He sank into a seat, gazing up at her father's serious expression. "Duncan, what is it?"

Her father sat down. "Randor, Adam attempted suicide last night." The king's eyes widened, but beyond that he didn't respond. "He tried to jump off the balcony in his room, which might not have killed him, but would certainly have injured him severely, possibly paralyzed him." The king didn't move a muscle, except to blink. "He was unhappy, and was drinking rather heavily. He had his dagger, the one of your father's that you gave him, by his chair."

Teela spoke up. "Cringer was worried enough that he came after me and took me to Adam's room. I think he was going to jump off the balcony because he thought he'd hurt me. I had to -"

Duncan put his hand on her arm to stop her. "I don't think he's hearing a word we're saying, Teela."

After a moment the king shook himself, and turned devastated eyes on Teela's father. "Where's Marlena?"

"I don't know," Duncan said.

"I need Marlena. Could one of you go and get Marlena?"

Her father turned to her and before he could speak, she said, "I'm gone."

Teela found the queen quickly, in her solar with a group of court ladies. One look at Teela's face and Marlena dismissed her attendants and caught the guard captain's hand. "What's going on?"

"The king wants you. He's in my father's lab."

Marlena nodded curtly and they left, hurrying back to the lab. Teela opened the door and the queen practically flew to her husband's side. What followed consisted largely of babbling. The king and queen both kept snapping out questions at her, but neither one gave her any time to answer.

Finally, Randor took his wife's hand and said, "Where is Adam?"


	4. Repercussions

**Chapter 4 Repercussions**

"I can't believe I told you that!" Adam groaned, pulling away from both Mekanek and Cringer to stand with his back to them. "What is wrong with me? I hurt Teela last night, no matter what she says, and here I am telling you a secret I've successfully kept for three years."

"You needed to tell someone, Adam. And you know you can trust me."

Adam whirled. "Yeah, you just tell the Sorceress that. 'Adam, no one must know.' Or Man-at-Arms . . ." He shook his head, grimacing horribly. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. "The whole fate of the world is riding on my shoulders." And at the moment he looked like he could feel the weight. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed. Very quietly, he said, "Why did the Elders choose me, of all people?" He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Clearly I'm not strong enough."

Mekanek walked over and went down on one knee beside the boy, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Don't say that. You've borne this for three years. It was bound to take a toll."

"I'm the one chosen. I'm supposed to be all . . . heroic. Instead I'm a squishy puddle of goop."

"You are not a squishy pile of goop," Mekanek said firmly, squeezing his shoulders. "Anyone who has stood up this well to the pressures you've been under for the last three years has . . . well, has more strength than I have. Hell, you've got more strength than your father has."

Adam pulled away, a painfully bitter expression on his face. "Great He-Man pun there, Mekanek. Ha ha. I have more strength than anyone. That's why they call me the 'strongest man in the universe.'"

Mekanek replied in mild tones, putting his arm around Adam's shoulders again. "I wasn't referring to physical strength, Adam. Your father's never had to deal with this kind of stress, and this started for you before you even finished growing up."

"I was of age," Adam said.

"But no one expected you to act like an adult for a few years. All that meant is that you could inherit the throne."

The boy's face came up out of his hands. "My father did."

"Did what?"

"Expect me to act like an adult."

Mekanek had just opened his mouth to reply when the door opened abruptly. They both looked up to see the king standing there, Marlena close behind, and Teela and Duncan hovering in the background.

"Oh no . . ." Adam groaned, closing his eyes. He got slowly to his feet. "Yes, Father, what –"

His words broke off when his father slammed into him, giving him a big hug. Mekanek fully expected Adam to hug him back, squeezing tightly, but the boy's hands just patted his father on the back, and the prince looked mightily uncomfortable. He writhed out of the embrace as quickly as possible, but Randor caught him by the upper arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked, gazing into Adam's eyes.

The prince grimaced. "Like you care."

"Adam!" Randor looked as though he'd been struck. "Adam, of course I care! I love you."

"Right." Adam pulled out of his hands and crossed his arms. "You've said the required things. Are we done yet?"

"No, we're not done." Randor grabbed his son again and hugged him. Mekanek raised his eyebrows. This was going okay for once. The king wasn't yelling, he was showing affection. Maybe it would last. When Marlena joined the hug, Adam's defenses started to break down. Randor let him pull away to hug his mother.

Mekanek looked down at his chronometer and bit his lip. "Hey, Adam?" he said softly, prepared not to get a response.

The boy looked up. "Yeah?"

"I've got duty, but I'll be by later, okay?"

Adam squeezed his mother, the pulled away, giving Mekanek a great big hug. "Thanks, Mek," he said, then let go and let his mother put her arms around him again.

Mekanek turned to go, but then he caught Randor's expression out of the corner of his eye. Adam had pulled away from him, but he had voluntarily hugged Mekanek. The king looked stunned.

The master walked out of the room, nodding at Man-at-Arms as he passed him. Duncan looked as pale as milk, and well he might. _He's really screwed up, and he knows it._ Mek squeezed Teela's shoulder as he went by. "He's okay, kid, don't look so worried."

* * *

Adam hugged his mother back, but he didn't want to face his father. He wished the king would just leave. He looked up and saw that Teela and Duncan had come all the way into the room. Duncan looked as if the world was cracking around him, and part of Adam wanted to feel guilty for worrying him, but right now, all he felt was a sort of angry numbness.

Except for his mother. His mother made him feel guilty. She drew back and said, "Adam, why didn't you talk to us?"

His eyes dropped to his hands, and he said, "There's nothing you could do."

"What's wrong?" she asked, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "You know you can always come to me if you have problems."

"I know, Mother," he said. "But you can't fix everything. This isn't like when I was little and kids were picking on me." She buried her face in his chest and he cursed himself for saying the wrong thing. "Mother, I'm fine now. I think some of what Teela and Mekanek said to me got me past the hump. I'd rather just put it behind me and not think about it."

"Adam," his father said, and he felt his jaw tighten at the sound of that sanctimonious voice. "You can't expect us to not want to know what . . . why . . ." He shook his head. "Adam, why?"

Adam glared up at him suddenly. "Why do you care? Wouldn't it be a solution to your problem? I mean, if I died, the heir you can't set aside would be out of the way and you could select someone more suitable."

His father drew back as if he'd punched him, and his mother's eyes widened at the hostility in his tone. He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her that none of it was directed at her. Teela and Man-at-Arms stood across the room, silent and still as mice.

"Adam, that's not what I want!" the king exclaimed. "How could you dream that's what I'd want? You're my son, and I love you."

"Right," Adam sighed. "It's just the prince you don't want."

"I never said that!"

"Did you have to?" Adam looked down and sighed. "I don't know exactly why I did that last night, but I do know that it won't happen again. Okay?" He looked up at his parents. "Can we leave it at that?"

His father started to shake his head, but his mother surprised him. "No, we can't, Adam," she said gently. Then she turned and went on. "Randor, Duncan, I want every potential weapon removed from this room."

Adam gaped. "Mom, I told you –"

"I wouldn't have thought it would happen the first time, Adam," she said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I'm not taking chances on it happening again when no one's around. We're also going to assign you a rotation of people to keep you company. Teela will be fine for the rest of today, and since he's already in the know, Mekanek can move in here tonight if he's willing."

"Actually," Man-at-Arms said, "I think we need to bring Dorgan in on this." Adam closed his eyes. First his mother, now Man-at-Arms. He'd have thought that Man-at-Arms would want as few people involved as possible.

Then Adam thought of what Dorgan would likely say to him if he were told that Adam attempted suicide. The withering stare, the acerbic comments about wasting his time. He would be absolutely cutting. "Do we have to tell Dorgan?" he asked, feeling himself slump. "I mean, couldn't we just . . ."

"No, Adam, we have to tell him," his mother said gently. "Duncan's right. It isn't optional."

His father put an arm around his shoulders, and Adam stiffened. "He's your healer," Randor said. "He has to be made aware of anything that comes up regarding your health."

"I'm perfectly healthy," Adam protested, glaring and pulling away.

"No, you're not," his father said. "You look terrible, and . . . well, perfectly healthy people don't . . . they don't . . . well, they just don't do what happened here last night." The prince turned away, crossing his arms. His father rested his hands on his shoulders. "Adam, we just want to help."

"Help?" Adam asked scornfully. "Mother wants to help, Duncan wants to help, Teela says she wants to help, but you . . . you just want to make sure how much damage control is needed." He turned. "Fine, I'll go see Dorgan." He looked over at Teela. "Are you coming?"

When they all started to follow him, he turned on them. "I don't need a parade. Unless we want to start talk, why don't the rest of you stay here?"

His mother's eyes caught his and he smiled at her. "Come by later and we can talk, okay?" he suggested. She nodded and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He turned and, gathering a wide-eyed Teela with a glance, walked out of the room.


	5. Blame

**Chapter 5 Blame**

The king watched his son go, and when they could no longer hear footsteps, he sank into a chair. "When did he start hating me?" he asked in befuddlement.

Marlena walked over and put her hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. "He doesn't hate you, Randor," she said softly.

He looked up at her. "How can you say that, Marlena? He . . . he doesn't even want me to touch him." He shook his head, absolutely astonished by the day's news and his son's coldness. "He hasn't acted like this before." He turned to his oldest friend. "Duncan, has he said anything to you that would explain this reaction?"

Duncan opened his mouth, but Marlena spoke before he could. "What would he need to say, Randor? You've been less than friendly towards him for more than a year now. How long has it been since you told Adam you loved him?"

Randor glared at his wife. "That's not –"

Her eyes flashed angrily. "It's not what?" she demanded. "Not relevant? Not important? Adam is pulling away from you, Randor, because the only thing he expects to get from you is hostility and a contemptuous lecture."

Randor started to respond with anger, but the intent, furious expression on Marlena's face stopped him cold. "Marlena, I don't know how . . . what . . . you can't say he's been acting like a prince."

Her eyes narrowed. "He's our son, Randor. You act as if this distance were something new." She shook her head in apparent exasperation. "For pity's sake, when was the last time you talked _with_ him rather than _to_ him?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

She put her hands on her hips and grimaced. Using a mocking tone, she said, "'Adam, you need to do this. Adam, you shouldn't do that.' You give him commands, you issue orders, but there's no give and take. You're a diplomat, a man gifted in talking to people, persuading people to act as you want them to, yet you haven't had a simple conversation with your son in two years."

"I need a son I can count on, Marlena. Not a young man who's still acting like an adolescent as he nears twenty! He's a prince. It's time and past that he should act like one!"

"And how would you know how princes act, Randor? How would I know? Your father was a soldier, and your grandfather farmed the land next to my father's. We're not born to this, and we don't know what effect that may have had on Adam." She walked up and tapped him firmly on the chest. "Nor have you asked. You've just told him what you expected and what you didn't expect, and told him that he wasn't living up to it."

"Marlena, I have asked him what the problem is!" Randor replied, throwing his hands out in frustration. "He won't tell me." He turned away. "I've tried. Elders know I have tried, but it's like talking to a wall. He's so immature!"

Duncan let out a yell, startling both of them. "He is an adolescent!" Randor stared at his man-at-arms in astonishment. "I can think of a number of stunts that you pulled at nineteen that Adam would never dream of! Most nineteen-year-old boys aren't expected to be absolutely perfect statesmen. And you started expecting that from him when he was sixteen!"

"I don't expect anything of Adam that I don't expect of myself," Randor blurted, realizing that it sounded idiotic even as he said it.

"You're forty-three, Randor!" Duncan shouted. "He's still a boy, not even certain how to be who he is yet!"

Both his wife and his oldest friend were glaring at him. "Now is not the time for this," he said. "We need to be worrying about Adam, trying to find out why he tried to kill himself."

"What do you _think_ I was doing?" Marlena demanded.

Randor felt suddenly as if his world had started to crumble around him. "You think it's my fault," he said in a voice devoid of emotion. Dismay spawned anger as he looked at Duncan. "You both do. You both think I drove my son to suicide." He shook his head. "If you were so certain that what I was doing was wrong, why didn't you try to stop me? You're the only two people in the kingdom who could have." He backed away. Marlena's expression was changing from fury to remorse, but she had meant what she'd said, he could tell. "I have to . . . I have to . . ." Unable to think of anything more to say, he turned abruptly and left the room.

Once they were no longer in his line of sight, the dismay rose up and took over again. _Are they right? Am I that terrible a father? Did I drive him to this?_ He walked through the halls of the palace, not even sure where he was going.

The fury that had driven his response waned as Randor left the room, and Duncan wondered if he should go after his king. At the same time, he knew he needed to go to the Sorceress and fill her in on this situation. He turned to Marlena only to find her glaring at him.

"And where have you been?" she asked in a low, angry voice. "You're Adam's confidant, the person he turns to when he needs to talk. How has this depression gotten so far?"

Duncan's anger exploded again. "You're his mother!" he replied in like tones. "Tell me, when did you cease to have responsibility for taking care of him? What, when he turned sixteen and was of age, did you decide that I was wholly responsible for his welfare?"

"That's not what I said!" Marlena shouted. "I just don't understand why you didn't know he was so depressed he was ready to kill himself! He tells you everything!"

_Evidently not,_ Duncan thought wretchedly, because, as angry as he was at her for attempt to abdicate responsibility, her shot had hit home with a painful thud. "Attacking me doesn't change the fact that you screwed up, too!"

"Well, I'm hardly going to yell at you about that!"

They stared at one another, and Duncan could tell that they were both patently aware that they had sunk to the level of childish tit for tat. But they were also both still angry. "Perhaps we should continue this later," he said.

She nodded sharply then left the room. Duncan followed, but headed in a different direction. He had to go to the Sorceress and tell her that the champion of Grayskull was so depressed that he had attempted suicide.

* * *

When they'd arrived in the infirmary, Dorgan had looked up from where he was going over a file with one of his medics and his eyes had widened slightly. He'd then gestured them into a room. Teela had guided Adam in. Once out of the presence of his parents, he'd gone rather silent and almost robotic. She was worried. She'd told her father that she didn't think the king needed to hear this. 

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Adam walked over to the bed in the room and sat down, pushing himself over to the middle and leaning against the wall at the end. "Thanks, Teela," he said in a biting tone. "How did you go from 'I'm here for you, now and always,' to fetching my father?"

"I didn't," she protested. "I went and told my father and he insisted that we had to tell the king."

"Great, so you thought telling Duncan was a good idea."

"I had to!" she exclaimed, feeling her voice go high and squeaky.

Adam stared in astonishment as Teela began to babble incomprehensibly in a very high-pitched voice. Tears were beginning to pour from her eyes and he felt like a heel. She sank onto the edge of the bed, gazing at him earnestly through wet eyes. He reached out his arms and she threw herself into them, weeping and babbling once more.

He held her, uncertain how to react. "I won't do it again, Teela, I won't."

"Won't do what?" Dorgan asked from the doorway.

Teela did not pause in her sobbing, and Adam looked up, feeling rather foolish. He bit his lip and decided that he'd better go ahead and get it over with as quickly as possible. "I tried to kill myself last night," he said.

Dorgan's eyes widened and he hooked a wheeled stool over with his foot and sat down next to the bed. "I see," he said in even tones. "And you say you won't do it _again_? Was there some question?"

"Everyone else seems to think so," Adam said disgustedly.

"When did this happen?"

Adam knit his brows. "Last night, I'm not sure what time." Dorgan continued to gaze at him silently and Adam felt himself compelled to tell more of the story. "I was upset, so I started drinking, and I took out a dagger and started thinking about suicide." Dorgan's eyes grew suddenly very alarmed and he started scanning Adam's extremities urgently. Adam shook his head. "Not seriously, I don't think, just thinking about how . . ." He broke off, not wanting to sound any whinier than he could avoid. Dorgan was going to be angry enough as it was. "Teela came in and we had words. I hurt her and then –"

Teela sat up abruptly and glared at him with tear-filled eyes. "You did not!" she shrieked. Her tone modulated somewhat as she went on. "You just gave me a little push. I stumbled, that's all!"

Dorgan nodded, his calm facade back in full force. "I see. And then?" he prompted.

"I was furious with myself and disgusted – whether I did or didn't hurt her, I believed that I had, and I decided that I . . . I . . ." He gulped. "I tried to throw myself off the balcony, but Teela tackled me." He sat back and waited for the explosion from Dorgan. After a second, he realized that he had somehow acquired Teela's hand in his. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but she didn't pull away so he didn't either.

Unexpectedly, Dorgan reached out and squeezed his ankle, the portion of his anatomy most readily available to the elderly healer. "You look like hell, son," he said. "I wish I could be more surprised."

Adam blinked. "What?" he said.

The healer smiled sadly at him. "I've been expecting some sort of breakdown for awhile now. I wasn't sure what form it would take, but I knew it was coming."

"I'm that pathetic, huh?" Adam said, feeling sort of devastated. _Dorgan's been expecting me to break down? What kind of a worthless specimen am I?_

Dorgan raised an eyebrow in a familiar manner, and Adam waited to be blasted. "No, you've just been very depressed, and the few times I tried to maneuver you into the infirmary to have a chat, you've pleaded other duties. I didn't think you were this badly off, or I would have strong-armed you in here. I'm just glad Teela was there."

Adam nodded. "So am I."

This had the effect of setting Teela's tears flowing again, and Adam squeezed her hand. There was a scratching on the door, then the door opened and Cringer entered, pushing it shut again with his tail. He walked over and jumped up on the bed, lying across Adam's lap. He reached out his head worriedly and started licking Teela's cheeks.

She pushed him away, laughing and sniffling at the same time. "Thanks, Cringer." She looked over at Dorgan. "Actually, that's why we're all so concerned, and Adam didn't mention it. Cringer came and got me, so he was worried about whether Adam would . . . would . . ."

Adam scratched his closest friend and loyal companion on his head. "Sorry, Cringe," he said. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"Well, if you should get worried again, Cringer," Dorgan said wryly, "just knock him over and sit on him. That should solve the problem."

* * *

Randor sat in the little stand of woods that stood at the edge of the precipice on which the palace had been built, gazing out over the fertile plains. The air was chill, but he'd been sitting there long enough that his skin had grown used to the cold. 

He'd been mulling over the past few years in his mind, and he'd come to a sobering conclusion. He was an absolutely wretched father. He was destroying his son's sense of self worth, and Marlena was right . . . he hadn't really tried to talk to his son. He'd just tried to shape him, like a moldable piece of clay, which he quite clearly was not.

He stood up. There wasn't anything he could do about the past. But the present and future he could affect, and he damned well would.

He walked through the grounds of the palace and into the infirmary. A medic discreetly pointed towards one of the exam room doors and Randor walked over to knock.

Adam looked up at the knock. Dorgan went to get the door and let his father in. The king looked dreadful. His eyes were sunken with misery. He walked over to the foot of the bed and stood looking down at Adam.

"I've got something I need to say to you, Adam," he said. Adam bit his lip and waited for him to speak.

* * *

Duncan got to the hangar and looked at the lined up wind raiders. He did need to go tell the Sorceress about Adam's condition, but he really needed to talk to Adam first. He needed to understand what had brought him to this state, because the Sorceress was bound to ask. 

He turned away and walked through the halls to the infirmary. He'd have to find some way to talk to him alone, but that wouldn't likely be hard with Randor off sulking and Marlena undoubtedly too upset to want to inflict herself on Adam. When he arrived, a medic gestured toward a door and he nodded, going over to knock.

Before Adam's father could speak, there was another knock at the door. He cast an irritated glance in that direction, and Dorgan opened it again. Duncan walked in and towards Adam. Man-at-Arms was still as white as a sheet and looked very worried. His eyes widened when he saw the king.

Adam watched, surprised, as his father's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding angry.

"I wanted to speak with Adam," Duncan said, lips pursed.

Adam could sense a great deal of tension between them, and he couldn't figure out why. What could have happened that would make his father and Duncan angry with each other?

There was a soft tapping at the door and Adam turned towards it, hoping devoutly that it was his mother. She was always able to soothe his and Teela's fathers down when they got upset. Dorgan opened the door yet again and his mother came in.

She took two steps inside the door and then saw Randor and Duncan. Her eyes flashed with fury and she opened her mouth. Adam stared in shock. His eyes darted to his father's face, and he was astonished to see that he looked angry at her, too.

Before anyone else could say anything, Dorgan spoke. His tone was calm but very firm. "All right, all three of you, out." They all opened their mouths, but the healer glared at them. "Out."

They filed out, throwing worried looks at Adam, who sat, utterly appalled. Dorgan followed after, glancing at Teela. _What have I done?_ "I've ruined their marriage," he said in answer to his internal question.

"What?" Teela asked. "No you didn't."

"And screwed up a thirty-year friendship between our fathers."

Teela squeezed his hand. "Adam, you didn't. They've all been mad before, don't stress about it."

He sat back. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. _It's my fault. I've ruined things. The three of them have been the center of this country for years and I've destroyed that._

When he didn't say anything else, Teela seemed to decide that everything was all right. She leaned against him and said, "Well, it looks like we're going to be alone for awhile. Do you want to play cards?"

He took a deep breath. _This has to end._ "In a few minutes," he said. "I have to go to the privy."

"Oh, okay." She pulled some cards out of the bedside table. Adam got up and Cringer jumped down from the bed, walking alongside him into the bathing chamber that was attached to the room.

Shutting the door behind him, he locked it. Then he went to the counter and opened the drawers, looking for anything useful. He came up with a very sharp pair of scissors, probably meant for the cutting of bandages. He looked down at them and smiled sadly. Opening them wide, he broke them into two pieces. Taking one, he pressed the sharp edge to his wrist. He had just punctured the skin when something slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

He landed on his back, his head thumping hard on the tile, dazing him slightly. Cringer settled on his chest, putting his front paws on Adam's arms and pinning him firmly in place. Then he set up an almighty caterwauling, loud and insistent.

Adam blinked the daze away as he heard Teela try the door. When she found it locked, she broke it open and ran in. "Adam! No!"

He stared up at her terrified face and felt tears coming into his eyes. "Don't you see that I'm having no good effect anymore? I'm destroying everything around me." Cringer licked his face, but Adam just shook his head.

"Adam, that's simply not true!" She fell to her knees beside him. "Cringer, let him up. I won't let him do anything." He bit his lip. _Why can't she see?_ Cringer didn't move, and Teela bent quickly and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll be back in a minute."

Very shortly, Dorgan came in and stared at the scene. He picked up the fallen half of the scissors and found the other half on the counter. He went out of the room and was gone for several minutes. Adam lay on his back, too miserable to speak or even to try to move. Cringer weighed more than he did.

_My parents have _never_ been that angry at each other. This is all my fault._ The great cat rubbed his face, and licked his cheeks. He started purring, and Adam recognized that the sound wasn't meant to indicate happiness but to impart comfort.

After a few moments, Dorgan came back into the bathing chamber and took the mirror down from the wall, taking it out of the room. Adam heard the outer door open and close.

There was a great deal of movement in the outer room, and then finally, Dorgan came in again and knelt by his head. "Cringer, let me take him into the next room, all right?"

The cat got off of him and stepped to the side. His purr never stopped and he started rubbing his shoulder as Adam sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his elbows on them. Dorgan bent and put his arm around the prince's shoulders.

"Come on, Adam. The floor in a bathing chamber is no place for a serious conversation."

Unwillingly, the young man allowed himself to be persuaded to get up off the floor and moved into the infirmary room. It had changed significantly; all the framed pictures had been removed from the walls. Teela was pacing worriedly. At the sight of him, she rushed over and put herself on the other side of him from Dorgan, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Adam don't do this to yourself!" she said. "I love you, and I don't want you to die! No one wants you to die. Except maybe Skeletor, and why would you want to make him happy?" It was a long, running monologue that Dorgan seemed not to mind. She carried it on as they got him sitting on the bed again and Dorgan removed his shoes.

Eventually, she paused for breath, and Dorgan said, "Well, she's covered many of the basic points." He took Adam's chin in his hand. "Listen to me, young pup. No more of that. What on Eternia caused that?"

"It doesn't matter," Adam said. "Nothing matters. I'm a worthless piece of trash that's destroying the lives of everyone he touches."

"That's utterly ridiculous!" Teela said. "I've been watching you help everyone else patch up their lives, and you help people. You help everyone. If your parents are mad at each other it's their problem, not yours! You didn't do anything! And . . . and . . ." Lapsing into incoherence, she buried her face in his neck. Adam put an arm around her and held her. After a few seconds she drew back and hit him, hard, on the shoulder. "I can't do without you, you big idiot!"

"She's right, you know," Dorgan said. "Now sit back a little and listen to your healer." Adam did as he was bidden and sat back against the wall again, brows lowered irritably. Cringer jumped up on the bed and sat on his legs, looking up at him pathetically. "You are not worthless. You are a valuable human being who is well-loved. Your parents are adults, and therefore are responsible for their own problems."

"I made them angry at each other, and at Duncan. They've all been friends since before I was born. How can you say it's not my fault?"

"Because it's not," Dorgan said firmly. "You are not responsible for them, regardless of what you may think." He leaned forward. "Adam, parents are people, and they get upset with each other. And they don't always tell their children about it."

"Everything I've done lately turns out wrong."

"So you've had a bad patch," Dorgan said. "Things will improve. Don't beat yourself up over a few mistakes."

"You don't understand, Dorgan."

"Well, I won't unless you tell me."

"I can't tell you," Adam groaned. "And it doesn't matter. I screwed up and badly, and everything's going to hell! Mom and Dad hate each other, Duncan is mad at my father . . . everything's going wrong! And it _is_ my fault." A sudden, sharp pain in his hand startled him and he let out a cry of pain. "Ow!" He looked down into Cringer's gold eyes.

The tiger was glaring up at him, eyes full of implacable determination. He was growling and he hadn't let go of Adam's hand. Then he carefully released his teeth, stood up and crawled further up Adam's body, settled and began purring ferociously. Adam had never heard a ferocious purr before – it was kind of alarming.

"Well, that's interesting therapy," Dorgan said, catching Adam's hand and turning it over, checking for punctures. "Good Cringer, you keep his spirits up."

The tiger leaned up and licked Adam's chin.

In a teary voice, Teela quavered, "And even if the rest of us don't matter, how could you ever dream of deserting Cringer like that?"

Adam stared down into those golden eyes, whose expression was now pathetic and worried, and scratched his beloved companion's head. "I'm sorry, Cringe. I promise I'll never leave you."

Teela bristled. "And no deciding to take him with you, either!"

"What?" Adam exclaimed, glaring at her. "As if I would ever do anything to Cringer!" Adam's anger fizzled and died, however, and slumped again. "If you think that, I really must be worthless." The tiger on his lap growled at Teela. Adam sighed again and Cringer grabbed his hand in his teeth again. "Hey, Cringe! Stop that."

Releasing his hand, Cringer licked it and nuzzled his cheek.

Dorgan stood up. "Well, boy, I'm going to leave you in the capable paws of your pet for the moment. Teela, you keep an eye on them both."

"Adam, please don't leave us," Teela said softly after the door was shut. "I couldn't bear it if you . . . if you . . ." She shook her head, apparently unable to finish the sentence. "I just couldn't bear it," she said after a moment of struggle.

"I'm sorry, I just –"

Cringer opened his mouth and Teela held up a hand to forestall his words. "No more about how worthless you think you are." Cringer licked his fingers and rested his chin on his master's hand. "Let me tell you, it would devastate this kingdom if you were to die, and it would be ten times worse if you killed yourself. Everyone in this palace loves you, Adam, and you help everyone." She gave him an uncertain smile. "You know, when I stopped being mean to you all the time, the maids started cleaning my room again. I didn't realize that's why they stopped."

Adam felt his eyebrows raise, and a laugh wanted to bubble up from somewhere. She sounded so pathetic. When he started to laugh, she did, too.


	6. Relationships

**Chapter 6 Relationships**

Randor sat irritably with his wife and Duncan in Dorgan's office. The healer had seated them there, started to speak with them, but in no time someone had come in and whispered in the man's ear. He'd taken his leave, abjuring them to remain.

Recognizing Dorgan's superior age, wisdom and authority, he had remained as bidden, but his son was desperately unhappy, and Randor owed him an apology. And the silence in this room was growing utterly unbearable. He was just gathering himself to stand when Dorgan walked in.

The elderly healer shut the door behind him then walked over and stood in front of his desk facing the three. "Well, you've done an excellent job today. I commend you."

"What are you talking about?" Duncan asked.

"Well, the three of you have now managed to make Adam's condition even worse."

Marlena and Duncan began to protest that they hadn't said anything, and Randor glared at both of them. "I didn't have a chance to do more than –"

"Silence!" Dorgan roared, and all three of them fell quiet at once. "If you children have quite finished attempting to shift the blame, perhaps you'd like to listen. Adam just attempted suicide again, and if it hadn't been –"

Randor didn't hear another word. He rose and sprinted out of the office, determined to reach his son immediately.

* * *

Adam scratched Cringer's ears. Teela stroked the great tiger's back and said, "So, do you want to actually –"

The door slammed open so hard that it made all three of them jump, and Adam let out a small gasp of pain when Cringer's claws dug into him. His father stood framed in the doorway. He rushed across the room and sat down on the bed next to Adam, pushing Cringer gently out of the way.

"Father, I –"

Randor pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly. "Adam, please don't leave us," he said. "I love you. I've been a terrible father, and a rotten king, but I love you and I don't want you to go." He kept up with that, repeating variations on the theme. Adam put his arms around him, too stunned to do anything more. This didn't sound rehearsed or put on for effect.

The longer his father babbled, the more real it seemed, and he gradually relaxed into the hug, hoping he could believe the words he was hearing.

* * *

Duncan stared in stunned horror up at Dorgan. The healer was right, the three of them together wouldn't be good for Adam until they'd resolved their differences.

"He did what?" Marlena asked in a weak voice. "Did he say why?"

"Yes," Dorgan said harshly, "because he's ruined his parents' marriage, he's worthless and he destroys everyone he touches. Couldn't the three of you have coordinated your visits if you were going to radiate hostility at each other?"

"But . . ." Marlena now wore an expression that Duncan knew had to be similar to his. "We . . . I . . ." Tears started pouring down her face. "Where did I go wrong?"

Dorgan walked forward and squatted in front of her, taking one of her hands. "Let me say that the last thing we need to worry about right now is who's at fault and what went wrong. Right now we need to focus on how to make things right." Marlena nodded. "Causes are almost irrelevant. Adam's a basically honest boy, if we can just get him to open up, he'll tell us what the problems are and we can solve them as we go."

Marlena smiled tremulously and nodded again. Duncan buried his face in his hands, suppressing a groan. _No, he won't,_ he thought. _Or if he does, it'll just open a whole new can of worms._ One thing was clear at the moment, however; he wasn't going to see Adam alone for awhile. He rose. "I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said.

The queen turned. "Duncan, I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"And I'm sorry, too," he said. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

He took a sky sled and flew to Grayskull as quickly as he could. Once there he landed and stood outside the drawbridge. "Sorceress!" he called. "I _must_ speak with you!" He walked around, waiting, but she didn't respond. After half an hour he gave up and left in frustration. The woman called whenever she needed something, but when he had something important to tell her, she wasn't to be found.

* * *

After a long while, Adam heard the door open and his mother walked in. She came over and sat on the bed next to them, putting a hand on each of their backs and hugging them tightly. His father shifted to include her and they wound up in a three-way hug. Adam hadn't felt this close to anyone in a long time, and he didn't want it to end.

Unfortunately, his stomach didn't seem to recognize the timelessness of the moment. It let out an enormous gurgling growl, and his father's answered it. They broke apart, somewhat embarrassed.

"I believe that it's time for lunch," his father said.

"I'll go get it," Teela said in a slightly shrill voice. They'd all forgotten she was there. Adam shifted uncomfortably. Now that they weren't hugging, his parents were far too close. His father, getting the message, pulled back. His mother, however, shifted so that she was sitting beside him and leaned against him. He put his arm around her.

He remembered a time when they had all been physically demonstrative, even his father, but it had been a long while. He was no longer used to being touched so much, but he couldn't push his mother away.

"Adam, dear, we love you." His mother gazed earnestly into his face.

His father leaned forward. "Please, why are you doing this?"

Adam closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about that." He looked up at his parents, who were now holding hands. "You two are okay with one another now, though?"

A spasm of pain crossed his father's face. "I'm been a wretched father, Adam, and perhaps not as good a husband as I could have been."

Adam became fascinated with the bedspread. "It doesn't matter," he said.

"Of course it matters," Randor said. "It matters because you've been upset by it."

Shrugging the prince looked out the window. "So, did you manage to bring off that trade agreement with the Spalians last night?"

"I did," his father said, sounding a little startled. "Adam, don't change the –"

"I don't want to talk about it," Adam growled. "I'm going to have to talk about it a lot over the next few days, I suspect. Can't I just have lunch with my parents right now?"

"You just tried to kill yourself less than twenty minutes ago," Randor exclaimed. "How can we pretend it didn't happen?"

Adam flushed unhappily. "Why were you two mad at each other, then? And why were you mad at Duncan?"

* * *

It was on the tip of Randor's tongue to tell Adam that it was none of his business, and that he should answer the question he'd posed. He paused, galled by how autocratic and tyrannical that sounded.

He swallowed his pride. "They pointed some very unpleasant facts about my past behavior to me and I didn't like hearing the truth."

His son stared at him and looked at his mother. She shrugged. "It can be very hard to have your own failings pointed out to you," she said. Turning to Randor, she added, "I got some of that as well, after you left, dear."

"Really?" Fury filled Randor at the thought that Duncan had presumed . . . he felt his ribs expanding as he drew in breath to growl. He saw the alarmed expression on Adam's face and he deflated again, realizing that he was being an idiot. "And now I'm getting angry on your behalf . . . when you don't seem angry at all."

"Oh, I _was _angry, but I think I'm past it now," Marlena said, sighing.

"You should probably be angry at me," Adam said. "I'm the one who's behaving like an idiot."

Cringer, who had given place to the king and queen, now jumped up on the bed and settled firmly on his legs again. He licked Adam's hand lightly, and gave him a look that had a hint of glare in it. "Come on, Cringer, you're the one who knocked me down. You must think I was being an idiot."

"It's not idiotic to act on the pain you feel, Adam, but next time could you tell us about the pain and let us try to help?" Marlena said asked.

Adam thumped his head against the wall. "There's really nothing you can do," he said.

Before either of them could respond, the door opened and Teela walked in followed by two medics with trays. They all adjourned to the table in the corner to eat. Teela put the plates on the table, while Randor took the plate that was clearly meant for Cringer and placed it on the floor. When he turned back, Teela was sitting next to Adam on one side with Marlena on the other. Randor had to sit across from him.

Adam looked down at the food for a moment, then he looked up into Randor's eyes. "Could we just eat for now and talk later?"

Randor nodded, concealing his misgivings, and they ate in silence. Adam, though demonstrably hungry, started pushing his food around on his plate. Marlena reached out and caught his hand. "Sweetheart, you need to eat."

Adam scooped up a forkful of peas and started eating, but he didn't seem to be tasting his food very much. He ate a few bites, and then said, "Could you all stop staring at me? It makes me self conscious."

It was almost funny as all three of the others dropped their eyes to their plates.

After a few more minutes, he said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Everything just feels so . . . so pointless. Like I'm having no real impact. Skeletor just keeps coming, and things keep going wrong, and nothing I do helps."

Teela reached out a hand and gripped his. "I know how that is, Adam, I do. But what you have to consider is how much worse things would be if we didn't do what we do."

Their gazes locked, and she seemed to be getting through. Randor wanted to jump on it, tell Adam how right she was, but he was afraid to speak. He didn't want to break the contact between their eyes, and with the way Adam had been reacting to everything he'd said today, he was afraid his agreement might devalue her words rather than reinforcing them.

"I know it seems like we're not moving forward, but we're not moving backward, and without the efforts of everybody involved, all the way down to Orko, we would be."

Adam smiled at her, reached up and cupped her cheek. "When did you get so smart?" he asked, eyes crinkling.

Teela blushed. "It's just the way I see it, Adam. There's nothing special about it."

"I've missed you," he said abruptly.

"I've missed you, too." They suddenly didn't seem to know where to direct their eyes. He dropped his hands and they both returned their attentions to their plates with slightly pink complexions.

Randor glanced at Marlena, who had her eyebrows raised. She gave him a smile. _Is she seeing what I'm seeing? A romance with Teela would give him even more reason to live._

There was a knock at the door and Dorgan entered. He paused on the threshold, eyes widening slightly, then walked the rest of the way in. "How is everyone?" he asked after shutting the door.

Adam shrugged, his eyes going dark with distress again. Randor hated to see the way he hunched.

"We're fine, Dorgan," Marlena said.

"Well, I'm going to want to spend the hour or so directly after lunch alone with my patient," the healer said. Adam hunched even lower. Randor looked up in irritation, and saw that both Marlena and Teela had similar expressions. "Don't everyone jump for joy," Dorgan growled. "Adam, there's nothing to worry about, and the rest of you, calm down."

"I'm done," Adam said, pushing his plate away.

"No, you're not," Marlena said firmly, glaring at Dorgan. "You need to finish your lunch."

"Yup," Dorgan said cheerily. "Or I'll have Cringer pin you down while I pour glop down your throat."

Caught by the horrible efficacy of that notion, Randor stared at the healer while Adam expostulated. "Dorgan, that's just . . . just mean!"

"Well, then, my boy, eat your lunch."

Adam returned to his plate and ate, perhaps not with savor, but with determination. Randor hid a smile. The meal was over all too quickly, and Dorgan shooed them out. Teela walked over and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back as soon as he lets me, Adam," she said.

Randor lingered and gave his son a hug. "I love you, son. And again, I'm sorry."

"Father, could you stop saying that?" Adam said.

"I don't think I should," he replied.

Dorgan was watching this parade with ill-concealed impatience. "He's not departing on a ship. You'll be able to see him in an hour. Two, tops. Everyone out!" Marlena glared at him and gave Adam a kiss anyway. Randor was pleased to see a smile twitching a the corner of Adam's mouth. "Cringer, you too!" Cringer hunched as if he were going to pounce and began to growl. Randor raised his eyebrows. He might be a coward, and he was certainly a lot smaller than Battlecat, but any animal that size was a bit alarming when he was radiating hostility.

"Why does Cringer have to leave?" Adam asked, brows knit. "He's a cat."

Dorgan pursed his lips. "All right, Cringer can stay."

"Why does Cringer get to stay?" Teela demanded.

Raising an eyebrow, the irascible old healer turned to her. "Are you his pet?"

A stray thought passed through Randor's head. _She wants to be. _He felt his face get hot and turned left the room abruptly. A moment later, Marlena and Teela followed him out. The queen had her arm around the younger woman's shoulders and was talking earnestly to her. Duncan was just coming into the infirmary and Randor walked across to greet him.

"I'm sorry, Duncan, I shouldn't have –"

His oldest friend clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. "Forget it. What people say in the heat of the moment . . . it doesn't matter."

Randor nodded. "Dorgan wants some time alone with Adam, so he ejected the rest of us." The king smiled wryly. "He tried to evict Cringer, but evidently teeth, claws and a growl are enough to make him reconsider. A crown, however, is insufficient."

Duncan glanced at the door, a wrinkle between his eyebrows, then he sighed. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Randor blinked. "I . . . I'm not really sure," he said after a moment. "Why don't we find somewhere a little more private to talk?"

"Right," Duncan said.

He asked Marlena to send them a message when Dorgan came out.

* * *

Adam stood up and turned to face Dorgan who said, "Why don't you help me clear these plates over to the counter so we can sit here more comfortably?"

The prince nodded and helped to shuttle all the dishes out of the way, insisting on taking a heavily laden tray from the elderly healer. When they were done, Adam walked over and sat back down and the square table. Dorgan sat on one of the adjacent sides and gave him a firm look. "All right, Prince Adam, we have to talk. I'm more than mildly disturbed by your situation. You've attempted suicide twice in the last twenty-four hours, yet you seem calm, lucid and rational. In my experience, people under that much stress generally aren't any of those three things." Adam blinked at this summation. He didn't know what to say, as a question hadn't actually been posed. "This suggests two possibilities to my mind. I discount the first, because you don't strike me as the sort to attempt suicide merely to get attention."

Adam shook his head, biting his lip. "No! I wouldn't – I don't – I just –"

"Hush, son, I just said I don't think that's the case." Adam subsided. "The other possibility is what I find so disturbing." His eyes rested on Adam's hands as he paused for a long moment.

Adam looked down and saw that his knuckles were white as he gripped his hands together tightly. He forced himself to relax them and looked up to find Dorgan looking even more disturbed. "What?" the prince asked. "What is it?"

"That you're so used to this level of stress that it makes little difference to your daily activities. And I don't like that notion at all." Cringer walked over and abruptly butted Dorgan on the hip, looking up at him. "It appears that your cat agrees with me."

Shrugging, Adam rested his arms on the table, consciously keeping his hands separate and relaxed. "Welcome to my world, Dorgan," he said, wishing he could just start pounding his head on the table. If only Teela had kept last night to herself! "My entire existence revolves around a single unsolvable problem. And yes, stress. Lots and lots of stress." _Why did I say that?_ he wondered suddenly, eyes widening. _I don't believe I said that._

Dorgan looked at him, eyes narrowing. "Unsolvable problem? What is this problem, and why do you think it's unsolvable?"

"Just take it on trust, Dorgan," Adam said firmly. "It's unsolvable. If it wasn't, it would have been fixed years ago, but there's nothing anyone can do."

"You can't know that unless you share it with someone, and –"

Adam shook his head. "What makes you think I haven't, Dorgan? There's nothing to be done. I just have to re-learn how to live with it." He sighed. "I am who I am, I'm just finding it kind of hard to be me, right now." He thumped his head down on the table. "I'll get past it. I will."

"All right, Adam," Dorgan said, getting up and putting a hand on the prince's back. "We need to do some tests, all right? Please take off your clothing and put on the –"

Adam sat up. "Tests? For what? There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Tests," Dorgan repeated. "Put on the shift and –"

"I don't need any tests. I didn't try to kill myself because I think I've got some disease or –"

Dorgan put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Son, you look like hell. You're getting a full physical, with extras."

"Extras?" Adam asked, grimacing. "I hate extras."

Sighing sympathetically, Dorgan said, "Then the sooner we get started, the sooner it will be over with."


	7. Adam and Teela

**Chapter 7 Adam and Teela**

"I wish I could tell you what the problem is, Randor," Duncan said, narrowly missing lying to his king. He didn't think that qualified as treason under statute, but it certainly qualified as a bad choice in the whole best friend arena. Not that he was likely to keep this friendship past the moment Randor found out that his son was He-Man.

"And you're the only person he talks to these days," Randor said, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. "I've clearly burnt bridges that it's going to take time to rebuild." He shook his head. "Can you ask him, Duncan?"

"I'll try," he said, wishing the request wasn't so impossible. _Well, Randor, you see, Adam is He-Man, and he hasn't been permitted to tell you. So he's been forced to seem like a coward for the past three years, and you've been treating him like dirt while he's been saving the world from Skeletor and various other villains. I hope you don't mind that I haven't told you, but there's this little decree from the Elders._ That would go over like chocolate-coated liver.

"Good." They'd been talking for some time, and this was the fourth time that Randor had asked him to talk to Adam, and that he'd reassured him he would. When the truth came out, which it would eventually, the king was going to kill him, and his friend was going to hate him. And he'd be out a job and all his close friends. And quite possibly his daughter would never speak to him again. And none of that mattered nearly as much as the fact that it seemed that he was helping to ruin Adam's life.

There was a knock at the door. Randor looked up and yelled, "Come." The door opened and Dorgan entered. The king sat forward. "Is there any news on Adam?"

"Well, he won't tell me what's wrong, though it seems clear that there is something specific in addition to a general feeling of malaise." He pursed his lips. "Randor, would you mind giving me a few moments alone with Man-at-Arms?"

Duncan blanched. _Great, does everyone think I know all and see all where Adam is concerned?_

The king stood. "Of course, Dorgan. Whatever you need that will help Adam." He started to leave the the room, but then he paused. "Is it all right if I go see Adam?"

"It is," Dorgan said dubiously. "Marlena and Teela are with him now, but I think you might want to wait a moment. I have a question or two I want to put to Duncan, but then I have some news about his general health that you ought to have."

Randor nodded and left, his expression etched deep with worry lines.

Now that they were alone, Man-at-Arms looked up at Dorgan. "Yes?" he asked.

"Duncan . . ." Dorgan paused, clearly searching for words. "Duncan, is Adam gay?"

The words hit him like a tone of bricks. "Adam's gay?" he asked in astonishment. "He told you that?" _Why wouldn't he have told me?_

"No!" Dorgan exclaimed. "Listen, boy! I asked _if _he is gay. It would explain a lot, but I don't know. He wouldn't tell me anything. He just said he had an unsolvable problem that he'd already talked to someone about and that there was no question that it was, in fact, unsolvable. A gay crown prince with no siblings would be something of a dilemma. So, naturally I thought –"

"No," Duncan said. "No, I don't think he's gay." Thanking the Elders that Adam didn't have that additional weight on his shoulders, Duncan shook his head. "He'd have said something to me, I'm sure, and he . . . well, he certainly looks at the ladies."

"Yes, but that could be overcompensation. I've seen it before in young noblemen who were homosexual. They're some of the most notorious philanderers about. It's a cover."

Duncan shook his head. "I really don't think Adam's gay," he said firmly. "I've spent a lot of time with the boy, and I've known men who were covering in the way you mean. I know the difference. It's a reasonable supposition under the circumstances, but it's not the case."

Dorgan raised an eyebrow, and Duncan had the strong impression that the old healer thought he was in denial. He sighed. "We'd better call Randor in here or he'll have hysterics."

The healer opened the door and summoned the king inside. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"Dorgan has this notion that Adam might be gay," Duncan said.

"Not a chance," he said firmly. "I saw him making eyes at someone only today. I don't think he'd be playing a cover today of all days."

"Making eyes?" Dorgan repeated. "When did you see him making eyes?"

"At lunch."

Dorgan shook his head irritably. "He ate lunch with you and Marlena," the healer growled. "What –"

"And Teela," Randor said, grinning.

"All right, and Teela," Dorgan said ungraciously, and Duncan felt his heart skip a beat. "What's that got – oh!" His eyes lightened. "And Teela . . . ." the healer repeated thoughtfully. "He was making eyes at Teela?"

"He was. Marlena noticed it, too."

Duncan swallowed and spoke slowly. "Was she making eyes at him?"

"Actually, yes," Randor said. Duncan felt as if the world had been cut from beneath his feet suddenly. "Duncan?" Randor sounded concerned. "Duncan?"

_The Sorceress is going to kill me._

"Duncan?"

* * *

"I've got to go find your father," the queen said after she'd spent about ten minutes talking with Adam. Teela looked over at her. "I promised him I'd tell him when Dorgan was done in here."

"Of course, Mother," Adam said. She bent and kissed him, then left. Cringer slipped out with her. Adam thought he was needing some time outside.

Teela took the chair she'd vacated and Adam looked at her. He was sitting on the bed, since there was a distinct dearth of comfortable chairs and he was the patient. "So, you want to actually play cards now?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.

She picked up the cards, which had been dumped in a haphazard pile on the bedside table, and started putting them into an even stack. "You really scared me earlier," she said, her gaze focused on the cards in front of her.

Adam gulped. "I'm sorry. I just – I thought –"

"I know you have a lot of stress, I know you're unhappy," she said. "But I don't want you to . . . to die!" The last was very nearly a wail. He leaned over and lifted her chin to see that tears were streaming down her face. Guilt stabbed through him, making him feel like a jackass. He'd left her out here, shuffling cards, and gone to slice his wrists open, not even considering how that would make her feel.

Taking the cards from her, he put them on the table and took her hand. Pulling gently, he got her out of the chair and sitting on the bed. He wiped away her tears with his thumb and drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Teela, that was a terrible thing to do to you."

She looked up at him, pulling away just slightly. "Yes! It was!" She glared at him, her eyes still wet. Then she looked away.

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but just as he did, she turned and started to say something else. Her words were lost as their lips met in a sort of crooked kiss, and something electric went through him.

She seemed to feel the same jolt. Her arms went around his neck and she started kissing him back. After a few seconds, they opened their mouths together, deepening the intensity of the kiss.

Teela put one of her hands into his hair while the other started exploring the contours of his shoulders. He held her close, his hands roaming across her back and up into her hair.

They sat, oblivious to the world around them, kissing, touching and discovering.

* * *

Duncan had proven unable to explain why he'd gone pale all of a sudden, and Randor decided to put it down to a simple case of fatherly jitters. Teela was nearly twenty, but she'd been so focused on her job and other responsibilities that Duncan had never had reason to worry. He'd never gone through all the terrible stress most fathers of daughters do. Maybe it was time.

"Duncan, get over it. We all have to," Dorgan said. "Children grow up, even girls. Randor, you don't suppose that –"

The door to the office opened and Marlena walked in. Her eyes widened upon seeing Dorgan. "I was coming to find you, dear, to let you know that Dorgan had finished with Adam."

"I see. Oh, yes, of course. Excuse me."

"Randor, wait!" Dorgan's order was imperative, and it rocked Randor back on his heels at the door.

He turned, raising an eyebrow, and closed the door behind him. "Yes, Dorgan?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Adam's health, specifically," he said.

Randor nodded and walked back over by Marlena, who took his hand as they settled back against the window seat. "Yes."

"His stress levels are through the roof," the healer said, pursing his lips. "So much so that I'm going to have to watch him for stroke."

"Stroke!" Duncan exclaimed, echoed by Randor. Marlena just squeezed her husband's hand, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Yes, stroke. His blood pressure is dangerously high, and I don't think it's related to his diet. He needs rest, relaxation, and a total absence of stress for awhile." Randor stared at him in astonishment. "I know, that's an impossibility for a Crown Prince. Nevertheless, we have to do our best to reduce his stress levels as quickly as possible."

Randor shook his head. "Truthfully, Dorgan, I don't know what to say. I don't actually ask all that much of him." He walked over and pulled out a calendar. "He's got two state visits next week, but apart from that, there's not much –"

"Those will have to be cancelled," Dorgan said decisively. "And anything else official that's set up. Until future notice, all assignments, appointments, even court dinners, will have to be cleared through me."

"Court dinners?" Randor repeated incredulously. "He's a gadabout at court dinners, playing social games with all the young ladies and some of the young men. Those are not exactly stressful –"

Dorgan fixed him with a steely eye and Randor fell silent. "What kind of an idiot are you, Randor?" he demanded. "The boy has been concealing an incredible level of stress for more than a year, how do you suppose he hid it? Under a false veneer of silliness and buffonery." Randor was stunned. _Is it possible?_ he wondered. _Is Dorgan right? Have I been misjudging him?_ Dorgan was still talking, and the king forced himself to pay attention. "However, he's built up something of a expectation from those parasites, and they will expect him to live up to it. He's not up to it, and I'd really like to limit his exposure to that sort of situation."

"Of course, Dorgan," Marlena said worriedly. "Whatever you recommend."

"For now, I'd just like to get his blood pressure stabilized and work out what's causing him such trouble, so we can ease it for him."

Randor nodded. "I'll make other arrangements regarding these visits," he said, looking down.

Marlena walked over and joined him. "I could go in his place to that one," she said, pointing. "But I've got a lunch on this day."

Randor looked up. "Is there anything else you want to say, Dorgan?"

"Please don't any of you put pressure on him to talk about what's troubling him. I'm working on it, but he's been keeping it to himself so long that it seems quite likely that if we try too hard to get him to talk, he'll clam up even tighter and that would do his stress level no good at all."

"Frankly," Duncan said, "the fact that we're going to such trouble to ease his stress is likely to disturb him."

Dorgan shrugged. "That can't be helped. I also want to confine him to the infirmary for the next week, without any weapons easily at hand. Two suicide attempts in twenty-four hours can't be ignored." Randor nodded, clenching his fists. _Two suicide attempts, and it's got to be largely my fault. I've been so harsh, so unkind . . . _

"We don't want to go too far in the other direction, though, Dorgan," Marlena said softly. "If we overdo it, it will have the effect of deepening his stress, as Man-at-Arms said." She tilted her head. "Were you planning on blocking access to him?"

"Actually, I was planning on filtering access to him," Dorgan replied, looking troubled. "But it would be difficult to explain why, exactly. We can't discuss the suicide attempts, and stress as a diagnosis is rather nebulous to the lay mind."

"It is," Duncan agreed. "What illness can you say he has beyond hypertension that would explain why you're limiting access?"

"We don't want people to become alarmed by his condition," Marlena said.

Randor shook his head. "People are going to be alarmed no matter what," he said. "If we put Adam in the infirmary for a week, the people are going to be distressed."

"Do you have an alternative to suggest?" Dorgan asked icily.

Randor blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I'm just saying that there's nothing we can do to prevent that. I think you should do whatever you think is best, Dorgan." Dorgan's expression softened to something like chagrin. "But I agree. If you give him nothing to do, he'll become restless and unhappy, and that won't help your aim."

"Well, then, Randor, I leave it to your good offices to come up with a task that will keep the crown prince occupied yet not overworked."

Randor raised his eyebrows. "Well, that rather depends on whether or not you're going to let him see people."

"I'll give it some thought and we can work it out tomorrow. For today, it's just family and close friends."

"Including Mekanek," Randor said, glancing over at Duncan and Marlena. "Adam seemed comfortable with him earlier, don't you think?" They nodded. "Now, I want to go see my son." They left the office by general consensus and returned to the infirmary.

Randor opened the door, politely stepping back for Marlena to enter. She paused on the threshold and grabbed door from his hand and shut it again. "Not now," she said firmly, pressing her back against the portal.

"Why not?" Randor asked.

"They're busy," she said.


	8. Impossibilities

**Chapter 8 Impossibilities**

Adam heard the door open and pulled away abruptly, realizing suddenly that they were lying back on the bed. Teela's hair had come loose from her ponytail and hung in loose waves around her face. He found it very . . . . he cut the thought off sharply. She opened her eyes and looked at him quizzically.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Someone opened the door, then shut it again."

"You mean someone saw us?"

He nodded, his mouth going dry. "He's gonna kill me," he said.

"Who is?"

"Your father. My father. Your father. Both, together or separately." He was babbling, but he couldn't stop.

"No one's going to kill you, Adam," she said.

"He is," Adam said. "Fathers are like that."

She stood up and tapped him on the nose. "My father isn't like that," she assured him, but Adam just wondered who she thought she was kidding.

_Or maybe she believes that. . . ._

Adam watched as she walked across the room to the door, then scrambled off the bed, looking for somewhere less . . . conjugal . . . to sit.

* * *

Randor was looking perplexedly at his wife. "What do you mean, 'they're busy'?" he asked. 

"Take my word for it, Randor," she said. "If you go in there right now, there will be plenty of embarrassment to go around, and nothing will be resolved."

"Marlena?" Duncan asked. "I don't understand."

"I'm serious, gentlemen," the queen said implacably. "To get through this door, you will have to go through me."

After a moment of stunned silence on the part of her audience, the door opened from inside, revealing Teela, who smiled over Marlena's shoulder. The girl's hair hung loosely about her shoulders, a look she seldom wore, but which suited her. Her lips . . . Randor realized abruptly what Marlena had meant by busy as he realized that Teela's lips were slightly swollen. He wondered if Duncan had made the relevant connection. Glancing aside at his friend's face he saw the realization dawn.

"Come in," Teela said, backing out of the way. Marlena entered first and Randor followed after. Adam was standing in the corner of the room farthest away from the bed, cheeks flushed brilliantly. His lips were swollen as well, and his hair was distinctly messy.

Duncan strode in after him, looking around with an irritated expression. Adam shrank into his corner, looking about twelve. Randor thought suddenly that there was quite probably nothing to talk about yet. Their clothes were entirely intact, their hair was the only indication that they hadn't been playing cards or something else innocuous.

He suddenly, ardently wished that Mekanek was present, or someone else who could make a funny remark, defuse the tension and let them move on without addressing something that likely didn't need addressed as of yet. Unfortunately, the only 'funny' remarks Randor could think of couldn't come from either the king or Adam's father.

Teela spoke up suddenly. "Father," she said, capturing Man-at-Arms' full attention. "We kissed, it was a good thing, and it's entirely our business."

Adam flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and his eyes darted to Duncan's face. Duncan, who was now blushing himself, cleared his throat. "Not entirely," he said. "Adam's a prince, which means that his life isn't entirely his own."

Teela shook her head. "Adam's life is as much his own as anybody else's is!" she declared firmly. "And . . . this isn't anyone's business but ours."

"I agree," Randor said, causing Duncan to turn and stare at him. Adam's eyes, which had already been wide, widened still further. Randor smiled at him, hoping he could start to make up for what he'd done to the boy. He turned to Dorgan. "Have you spoken to Adam yet?"

"No, actually, I hadn't." The healer's expression was very neutral, which suggested to Randor that this scene had better end, and quickly. Dorgan was almost never neutral.

"About what?" Adam asked, still looking as if he felt pinned by his relatives. Randor walked forward and put his arm around his shoulders, guiding him out of the corner, looking around for someplace for them all to sit comfortably.

The king raised an eyebrow. "Dorgan, this isn't going to work."

"I can see that," the healer said dryly. "I'll go get something set up in another room." He looked at Adam. "There are some issues that came up with your tests, son, and we need to talk about them."

Adam tilted his head. "You already told my parents?" he asked.

"Yes," Dorgan said simply. "I'll be back shortly," he added and left the room before Adam could ask anything else.

The boy remained silent, looking troubled. Marlena walked forward, putting her hand on his face. "Sweetheart, it's difficult for all of us to remember that you and Teela are grown up," she said. Randor didn't miss the slight barb she was casting at Duncan. From his sour expression, Duncan didn't miss it either. "Now, come sit down."

"I'm fine," Adam said, pulling away as she drew him toward the bed. "I can stand." He wasn't even looking at Duncan, and his skin kept flushing oddly whenever he caught sight of Teela.

Randor wished he knew what to say to make the boy comfortable, but he had a feeling that a father wasn't going to be able to do that right now.

Fortunately, Dorgan returned before much time had passed. He led them all into one of the meeting chambers off the main infirmary room, and Cringer eeled in as Dorgan shut the door. The healer had clearly had people move a couple of extra chairs into the space, for there were six armchairs, grouped roughly together. They milled for a moment, but then Dorgan lost his patience.

"Everyone sit down already!" he growled.

They did, though there was some confusion as Adam tried not to sit next to Teela while Teela tried just as firmly to sit next to him. He sat down next to his mother as Duncan took the chair to the other side of him. Cringer flopped down, resting his head on Adam's feet.

Teela, looking vastly irritated, settled on the arm of Adam's chair between Duncan and Adam. Randor sat next to Marlena, and Dorgan sat next to him, directly across from Adam.

Adam looked mildly uncomfortable, but when Teela dropped her hand down, he took it without a word.

"All right, Adam," Dorgan said. "I'm going to be blunt." Adam nodded nervously. "Your blood pressure is dangerously high, so much so that I'm going to have to put you on watch for stroke." Adam blinked. "You're simply under too much stress, and we're going to have work out how to reduce that load or . . . well, we just have to reduce it, that's all."

Adam stared at him for a moment, then he did something utterly unexpected. He started to laugh.

* * *

Adam couldn't believe his ears. Dorgan wanted to reduce his stress. It sounded so simple, so easy. _I'm sure he thinks I just need to do a few less state visits, go to fewer parties, what else . . . I'm surprised Father isn't over there snorting at the thought of me being under stress._

He started to chuckle. It began as a half-humorous reaction to Dorgan's statement, but rapidly developed into something that Adam couldn't control. "How?" he choked out through hysterical laughter.

They were all staring at him as if he'd gone crazy – except Duncan. He couldn't see Duncan's face. He buried his face in his hands, striving to master himself, but it was no use. Gradually, the laughter gave way to wrenching sobs that shook his whole body.

Teela had put her arms around him and was holding him tightly. "It's okay, Adam, it's okay."

_No, it's not, Teela. It's never going to be okay,_ he thought but didn't say aloud. Soon enough He-Man would be needed, and he'd run away to transform. His father would be livid, his mother would look at him sadly, and Teela . . . maybe this new understanding of hers would last past that, but he wasn't going to bet on it. Cringer nuzzled his face, and he put his forehead on the great cat's head and hugged him close.

Eventually he regained control, but he didn't want to lift his face and look at the others. He pulled away slightly from Teela, who drew back but kept her hand on his back. Cringer licked his face and lowered his head slightly, looking up at his master with a worried amber gaze. Finally, Adam looked up, expecting worry from his mother and Duncan, but disgust from his father. Instead his father gazed at him with real concern in his eyes.

Dorgan cleared his throat. "As I was saying, we're going to limit your schedule sharply, and I'm going to filter your visitors somewhat, for the first few days at least. But you're going to be staying in the infirmary for a week."

Adam shook his head. "I can't. I can't stay in the infirmary for a week. I have . . . duties. I have a state visit on Thursday."

"I'll be going in your place," his mother said softly. "It's all right, Adam," she added as he opened his mouth to protest. "You're unwell, and you need rest."

"No," he said, shaking his head. They didn't understand. They couldn't understand. He looked over at Duncan for support, but found him looking down at his hands which were clasped in front of him. There was no help to be had from that department. "I can't be confined to the infirmary."

"Adam," Dorgan said gently. "I'm not trying to be punitive. I am genuinely concerned about your health. Not to mention that you've attempted suicide twice since last night. I'm sorry, but please don't get yourself upset. It won't help matters any."

Adam nodded, giving in. If Duncan agreed, as he appeared to, he didn't have much choice. "All right, I'll do whatever you say, Dorgan." _But if Skeletor attacks . . ._

"Good lad," the healer said. "What I say first is that you need to talk to someone about your problems. A counselor, me . . . someone you feel comfortable with." Adam's gaze strayed toward Duncan who had looked up, eyes wide, at this. "Not Man-at-Arms, not your parents. I know any one of the three of them would gladly talk to you, but since you have not confided in them as of yet, I don't think it's likely to happen now."

Adam felt himself flush and he looked down. Cringer was looking up at him, and he put his hand on the cat's head, stroking gently. "It's not that simple, Dorgan," he said. "There are things I can't really explain."

"You may find that's different when you speak with your counselor." He nodded. "I'll find someone for you tomorrow."

"I could talk to Mekanek," Adam said. He could see Duncan's neck muscles straining as he _didn't_ turn to look at him.

Dorgan nodded. "That's all well and good, Adam, and I'm more than willing to make him part of your recovery process, but he's not trained. You'll need a professional counselor as well. Don't worry, I'll find someone suitable."

Adam wasn't worried that he wouldn't find someone suitable, he was more worried that he would. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm doing this," he said. It was a lie, and he could tell that everyone there knew it. "I mean, I – I –" They were all looking at him, listening to him, and all he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and hide. "I'm tired." His head drooped.

"Now, we're going to have to station guards outside of Adam's infirmary room," Dorgan said. Adam's head whipped up. "Not to keep you in or any such nonsense, but I'm not permitting you weapons, so you'll need someone to protect you."

"Oh." Adam slumped. Then he put two and two together. "Wait, I'll need my sword."

"Absolutely not," Dorgan said. "No edged object of any kind, nothing that can be broken to provide an edge . . . Adam, you're on suicide watch as of three hours ago."

He saw his parents taking hands and he closed his eyes, wishing it was yesterday, and he could head all this off. Maybe Orko could change time . . . no, that would be a bad idea.

"I'll stay with him," Teela said. "After all, if he needs a guard that works out perfectly."

"If you're staying in with him, Teela, you can't have any edged weapons either."

"I use a staff, Dorgan," she said with a familiar air of condescension. "I'm not sure how someone would kill himself with a staff."

Adam shifted uncomfortably. He hated it when she sounded like that. There had been moments in the past when he'd almost hated her when she'd spoken to him that way. She noticed his movement and stroked his shoulders. He tried to smile up at her, but he had a feeling he failed dismally.

"I see," Dorgan said, raising an eyebrow at her tone. "Thank you, young lady, I will take you up on that." The way he said 'young lady' came across as a rebuke. Teela's brow wrinkled, and Adam could tell she wasn't sure what she was being rebuked for.

"Well, that's settled," Dorgan said, rising to his feet. "I think you need to go back to your room and rest, my prince."

Adam nodded and stood up. Cringer butted up against his leg. Teela came up close beside him, taking his hand. He smiled down at her, a better effort this time, and sighed. He looked up at Dorgan. "I do have a few things I promised to do for people, non stressful, ordinary tasks."

"Like what?"

"I found a book for Mistress Tucker." He shrugged when his father looked at him curiously. "She needed some information regarding an illness, I'd rather not mention just what. Anyway, it's on my desk." He turned to his mother. "If you could get it to her, I'd really appreciate it." Marlena nodded.

"What else?" Dorgan asked.

"Well, one of the maids has a sister who is trying to get started as a minstrel. I promised to go see her performance tomorrow night in a tavern in town."

"I think that can be arranged, with a suitable escort."

"What constitutes suitable?" Adam asked warily.

"I'll go," Teela said quickly. He squeezed her hand but looked at Dorgan, then at his father.

"I think a couple of guardsmen should join the crowd unobtrusively," his father said. "Since you would be unarmed." Adam nodded.

"And perhaps one or two of the masters," Duncan added.

Adam grimaced. "Fine, but I'm going with Teela and Genice. The others are just showing up on their own, okay? I don't want to look like I'm being guarded. It would be an insult to the people who are there to suggest that I need to be guarded from them."

"Teela, Genice and Mekanek," his father said firmly. "And which tavern is it?"

"The Leaping Boar," Adam said.

"Duncan –"

"I'll see if I can find a couple of guardsman who frequent the Boar and send them along as well, separately."

Adam shrugged. "That'll work, I guess." He grimaced. "I wish –"

"_Prince Adam!" _Adam froze, his words breaking off at the Sorceress' commanding voice. _"He-Man is needed."_

He shook his head. _"I can't,"_ he sent back. _"I'm –"_

She broke into his explanation. _"Skeletor threatens Grayskull."_

Adam bit his lip and turned to Duncan who was watching him intently. As he opened his mouth to speak, he realized that he could feel his heart beating in his chest, much more quickly than it should be. There was a sudden rushing in his head and he heard shouting. He felt his body fall limp, and hands clutching at him, then he passed into darkness.


	9. Recriminations

**Chapter 9 Recriminations**

Between Teela and Randor's attempts to catch the prince, Duncan couldn't get near him, but it was clear that he had been contacted by the Sorceress. He stepped back from the throng and waited.

"_Man-at-Arms, what has happened?"_ the Sorceress asked.

Irritation colored his answer. _"Adam is ill,"_ he snapped. _"Very ill. What on Eternia is the problem?"_

"_Skeletor is attacking Grayskull. He has Evil-Lyn and two of the others."_

"_Are they getting through the shield?"_ he asked.

"_Not yet."_

"_I'll send the masters. Adam is _**not** _available. Call me when the fight is over."_

"_Of course,"_ she said, and then was gone.

Duncan pulled out his comlink and gave the orders. Randor had scooped his son up and carried Adam out of the room past him. Duncan followed, still issuing orders. He caught Marlena's arm and she turned back, eyes wide with alarm. "Skeletor's forces are attacking Grayskull. I'd better go with the masters."

"Oh, of course," she said, nodding, her attention still more than half on her son. "I'll tell Randor."

Duncan strode out of the infirmary and joined the masters on their way to Grayskull. The fight was, all in all, relatively short. Skeletor seemed disappointed that He-Man hadn't shown up and left quickly. Duncan sent the masters back to the palace and waited for the Sorceress to call him.

Once the last of his compatriots was out of sight, the drawbridge lowered and he entered, following the path her magic lit for him.

She stood before her throne as always, and he climbed up to her. "I have failed," he said, his irritation at her earlier lack of response fading into his dismay over Adam's condition.

"Failed?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then, opening them again, he spoke. "Adam tried to commit suicide last night, and again this morning."

Her eyes widened, and she sat abruptly. "So soon?"

"Soon?" he repeated. "Soon? Are you saying you expected this?"

She nodded, worry exuding from her. "Most champions go through periods of crushing self doubt, but I would never have expected it to hit him so soon."

"It's been three years, Sorceress," he said. "And how many champions lead this double life he has?"

"It is unusual, I confess," she replied. "You said he was ill, though, and I know he passed out. I sensed it."

Duncan grimaced unhappily. "In addition, he is showing signs of unbearable stress. I don't know how I missed it. He hasn't been talking to me much of late, and I don't know what to do."

"You must bring him to me," she said resolutely, sitting up straighter. "Perhaps I can –"

Duncan's anger surged suddenly. "Not on your life!" he growled. "If you lay a load of responsibility and guilt on him, he'll crumble."

"That was not my intention!" she replied, almost shouting.

"Then what?" he demanded. That's all she'd done since this started. Remind him of his duty and his primary place in the defense of Eternia.

"To talk to him!" she exclaimed furiously. "Don't you think I've been through this!"

He blinked, rocked back by her anger. Then his brain started working again. "No, I don't," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "You have given up much, I know. Better than you, I know how much you have given up. You have sacrificed any chance of a normal life. But have you ever lived two lives in tandem?"

"No, I have not," she said, her voice grown quiet.

"He doesn't ever get a break. He has to be feckless Prince Adam when he's not being He-Man. He's acting all day and all night, every day of the week. He's never able to relax, except when he's alone with Cringer."

"And even then he must be wary," she acknowledged. "Lest someone overhear or a doomseeker spy him."

Duncan nodded. "He's miserably unhappy, and I don't really know why, beyond the obvious. He used to talk to me, but over the last few months he's come to me less and less with problems. I thought it was because he was growing up, learning to deal with his troubles better, but it appears that I was wrong."

She gazed thoughtfully at him for a moment. "A lack of maturity isn't one of his problems, Duncan. He's unusually mature for his age."

He blinked. "That's not quite what I meant."

"But it's indicative of an attitude." She sighed. "I'm afraid we've both been heavier on the responsibility than on the compassion . . . or perhaps, at least in my case, on the gratitude."

Duncan wanted to refute what she said, but he couldn't. She was right. Replaying some of his conversations with Adam in his head, he realized that he had offered very little in the way of either gratitude or compassion. "I wish I knew how to explain his absences better. I think that's what causes most of his problems. He vanishes and I never know what to say."

"The cowardly prince is an excellent cover," she said. "No one looks any further."

"But he's not a coward," Duncan pointed out. "It would be bad enough for him if he were. He gets castigated regularly under his own name, and the alter ego he can't acknowledge gets all the credit."

The Sorceress let out a sharp sigh. "This is getting us nowhere. We know these things. We need a solution."

"Let me tell his parents at least." She shook her head and he persevered. "He would be able to handle the rest if his parents knew the truth."

"No, you can't," she said. "If you tell Randor the truth, he'll die."

Duncan stared at her, astonished. "What? Why?"

"I don't know," she said, a pained expression crossing her face. "I only know that it's true." She pursed her lips. "And you can't just tell Marlena, because you can't tell me that she would keep knowledge of that sort from Randor. It would tear them apart if she were trying to keep that serious a secret."

"No, that's not a good idea," he said, grimacing. "Adam's second suicide attempt was a reaction to his parents' arguing over the first suicide attempt."

"I see." She paused, looking thoughtful. "How is Teela reacting?" she asked.

"Teela's the reason we know about the first attempt," Duncan said. "She found him drinking alone in his room, his grandfather's dagger handy. I don't fully understand what happened, but she wound up tackling him when he tried to throw himself off his balcony."

"And the second attempt?"

As Duncan described the rest of the events of the day, he began to grow frustrated. When he had told her all, he said, "I need to be going. They'll be wondering where I am and why I haven't come back with the others."

"Of course." She pursed her lips. "I will call again in the morning to see how his night was, and I won't call him again until he's in better shape."

He nodded. "Good." Turning, he left the castle.

* * *

Randor lowered Adam gently to the bed. It had been shocking – he'd stopped speaking in mid-sentence, then collapsed. He and Teela had been forced to catch him so that he wouldn't hit the floor.

"What caused that?" Marlena asked Dorgan.

The healer shook his head and, pushing Teela out of the way, checked Adam's pulse. "I'm not sure yet."

Jonis came rushing in with equipment and shoved the king out of his way. After a few seconds of hurried tests, Adam started groaning. "Wh – what happened?"

"You passed out," Dorgan said. "I think you had a blood pressure spike."

"I have to – I've got to – let me up!" Adam exclaimed, sitting up despite the efforts of both the healer and the medic to keep him flat. "I've got to go!"

"What is it, Adam?" Randor asked.

"I – I can't! I have to go." Dorgan was restraining him, and though Randor was reasonably certain that his son could escape the healer's control, he was clearly unwilling to risk hurting the older man. "Dorgan, let go! I have to –"

"No, you don't, son. There's nothing you have to do." He looked up grimly and nodded to Jonis.

The medic pulled out a hypodermic needle. Randor grimaced and leaned in to hold him down should he try to struggle as the needle went in. Adam's eyes grew wide as he felt the prick and the drug entering his bloodstream. "No! You have to let me! I have to go!"

He struggled more urgently then, but gradually, the drug took effect. Cringer jumped up and lay on his legs, looking worriedly into Adam's face. The prince's eyes drooped and he fell asleep. Teela sat down on the bed beside him as Dorgan stood up again. She leaned down to brush his hair out of his face. He'd seen that expression before, on the face of a woman looking at the man she loved, and he had a feeling that he was looking at the future queen of Eternia.

If only they could keep Adam alive that long.


	10. Companionship

**Chapter 10 Companionship**

Marlena had cornered Dorgan and was demanding answers, so Randor walked over to them. "It's a simple sedative, your highness," the healer was saying as he joined them. "It won't do him any harm."

"All right, then," she said. "What now?"

"Now we keep him in bed for a few days while we try to get his blood pressure lowered. Too much activity wouldn't be good for him."

"Why hasn't this been noticed before?" Randor asked. "When was his last physical?"

Dorgan scowled. "I was actually about to come to you. He's been impossible to nail down for the last two months, and his physical is overdue."

"I wish you'd come sooner," the king said, taking off his crown and running his fingers through his hair.

"For what it's worth, so do I," Dorgan replied. "I didn't know what to think. He's never failed to show up for an appointment before, but he almost seemed to be avoiding me."

"Do you suppose he knew he was unwell and didn't want to deal with it?" Marlena asked.

"I don't know. I'm going to find a counselor for him. I don't like the sound of him drinking alone in his room. We have to find out what's eating at him."

"And he won't talk to us, or, as you said, he would have already." There was a catch in Marlena's voice as she spoke. Randor put his arm around his wife. "I wish I understood what happened. I thought he knew he could always come to us to talk."

"He wouldn't have come to me," Randor said. "I haven't been the most approachable of fathers of late."

Marlena leaned in against his side. "I'm sure he knows you love him, dear," she said.

With the looks his son had been giving him today, Randor wasn't so certain, but he didn't contradict her. "So, I take it you don't want him to have any active tasks tomorrow?"

"No. If you have something that he can do while lying in bed, I will give it a look in the morning, but nothing that involves seeing anyone outside the immediate family and nothing that requires a lot of activity."

Randor nodded and started running over his to do list in his head to come up with something suitable. There was some correspondence . . .

"Randor, don't you have a meeting with the Qadian ambassador this evening?" Marlena said suddenly

"You're right." He stepped to the counter in the room where there was a pad of paper, wrote a quick note and, opening the door, gave it to a medic to give to a servant. "That takes care of that. I'm sure Rraal will understand."

Marlena nodded and took his hand. "I'm sure he will."

"Well, I've got some more test results to look at. I'll be back in if there's anything urg –" He broke off as one of the lab techs came in. "Yes, Mira?"

"Sir, I need you to look at some of these results." She looked worried, and the way she glanced at him and Marlena made Randor very nervous.

"Of course. Please excuse me, my king, my queen." He bowed slightly and hurried out with the technician.

"Does that scare you as much as it scares me?" Marlena asked.

"I suspect so," he said, his hand tightening on hers. They turned back toward Teela, who was fussing with the blankets and trying to shift Cringer to make them lay more to her liking. Marlena released Randor's hand and went to sit beside her.

"It's all right, Teela, you don't have to worry so much."

"He needs to be comfortable," Teela said.

The queen put her arm around Teela's shoulders and pulled her close. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

They sat with him for a long while, but when Dorgan didn't come back, Randor grew concerned. Giving Marlena's shoulder a squeeze, he went out into the main room of the infirmary. The place was quiet, and Randor looked around, trying to locate Dorgan. He walked over to a medic. "Where is Healer Dorgan?" he asked.

"He's in surgery, your highness" the young man said.

"On whom?" the king asked, startled.

"One of the guards came in with a pain in his arm, and it turns out he's having some kind of serious heart problem." He tilted his head. "It's lucky for him that he came in and that Mira decided to do a scan of his arm. She caught the heart problem by accident."

"Thank you," Randor said and went back into Adam's room feeling a little chastened. He and Marlena had both assumed that Mira's news had to do with Adam, but . . . he shook his head as he went over to sit down. "Dorgan's in surgery on a member of the guard," he said. "A heart problem. I gather we're quite fortunate that Medic Mira caught it."

Marlena nodded slowly, and he could see she was making the same realization that he had. "We will have to remember to commend her for it later," she said.

Randor nodded and looked down at Adam's sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, no evidence of the distress that he'd seen so much of today. It was hard to reconcile the Adam who had attempted suicide with the young man who behaved so cavalierly about everything. Of course, if Dorgan was right, that cavalier behavior was actually a symptom of the anguish that had led him to suicide.

The door opened and he looked up to see Duncan entering. He looked as if he'd just come from a battle, and Randor rose, crossing to his side. "Is all well?"

"The fight was nothing, really. Skeletor was quickly routed. I had to speak to the Sorceress afterwards, that's what took me so long."

"I see. Is there anything I should know?"

Duncan shook his head. "How is Adam?"

"Dorgan had to sedate him. He just kept saying that we had to let him go, but it really wasn't clear where he had to go."

Duncan sighed, pursing his lips. "And Dorgan's still in surgery. Had you heard? Guardsman Ivan had a heart attack."

Randor nodded, appalled. Ivan was so young. "I didn't know who, but I knew that it had happened. I'm afraid I'm having a bit of trouble focusing on anything past Adam right now."

"Understandable," Duncan said dryly. "I'll go change and make sure everything's running smoothly. Then I'll come back here."

"Has it only been one day?" Randor asked, thinking over the hours that had passed.

"Not even a day," Duncan said. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He left, shutting the door behind him. Randor turned to see Adam blinking.

"Was that Duncan?" he asked blearily, sitting up a bit, pulling himself a little further up the bed despite Cringer's weight on his legs.

"Yes, he's gone to get cleaned up," Randor said, walking around to sit beside the bed. "Skeletor attacked Grayskull, but Duncan and the masters routed him without any trouble."

Adam's eyes widened and he said, "Oh, that's good. No one was hurt, I hope?"

Randor shook his head. "Duncan didn't mention anything." Adam relaxed a little, and Randor realized he hadn't noticed him tense. "Apparently, one of the guardsman, Ivan, has had a heart attack, though. Dorgan's in surgery with him now."

"Is he going to make it?" Adam asked immediately.

"No one's said anything," Randor replied. "I doubt it's in question."

"I'm glad to hear it," Adam said, sounding genuinely pleased. "He's a nice fellow. He's had perfectly rotten luck this year, though, and this just tops it."

Marlena nodded, but Randor was puzzled. "I didn't know you knew him," he said.

"I know most of the guards, Father," Adam said. "Don't you?" Randor nodded dumbly. "He had a girlfriend at home who sent him the typical letter. She fell in love with the blacksmith or some such. Then his favorite dog died. It's been a bad year. Someone should send for his parents."

"I'll see that it's done," Randor said.

"Duncan will probably take care of it," Adam said. "He usually does."

Randor nodded, uncertain what to say.

"Adam, how do you feel?" Teela asked, stroking his hair.

"Kind of fuzzy. What did Dorgan do?"

"He sedated you. Where were you so determined to go?"

Adam shrugged. "Oh, nowhere much," he said off-handedly.

Both his son's body language and his tone of voice caused a surge of disgust in Randor that he had difficulty controlling. It was so like the way he behaved after he ran away from a battle, or missed an important appointment. There was never a reason, never a cause. He just shrugged and claimed to have forgotten, or to have been doing something ridiculously trivial.

Fortunately, Adam didn't seem to have noticed his reaction and was still talking to Teela. Marlena was giving him an odd look, though. He schooled his expression and tried to examine his reaction. It had been so automatic, so ingrained . . . so utterly uncontrolled. His son lay in bed with high blood pressure caused by hypertension and a simple shift of his shoulders and a tone of voice had set Randor's hackles up. If he hadn't been paying attention to what he said . . .

And how often hadn't he been paying attention? How often had he said the unforgivable without even thinking about it? Given the way Adam had reacted today, he had a feeling it had been all too often. He didn't know what to think, and he was afraid that his face was showing every emotion far too clearly.

"Father, are you all right?" Adam asked, confirming his fear.

"I'm – I'm having trouble, Adam." He shook his head. "I've been horrible to you, and I don't like what I've done to you."

Adam gave him an odd sort of smile. "You haven't done this, Father." Randor raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Well, not alone." Teela sniffled and Adam caught her hand. "And don't you take too much on yourself, Teela. There's more than . . ." He stopped. "Well, it's not your fault, is all I can say." This last was said in a bleak voice that made Randor shiver.

"More what?" Randor asked, leaning closer. There was pain in Adam's eyes, a deeply felt and terrible anguish that made his father's heart bleed.

"Don't push him," Teela said, her eyes flashing. Randor straightened his spine, irritated by her tone and her attitude. It was one thing for Duncan and Marlena to criticize him, it was quite another for Teela to do so.

Adam squeezed her hand. "Hush," he said. "No fighting."

"Right," Teela said, and Randor got his own temper under control. When he looked into Adam's eyes again, the pain had vanished, covered by a mask of mild exasperation. _Damn Teela!_

"Look, can I get up? I feel a little foolish lying here in bed like this." Cringer shifted further up his legs, resting more of his weight on the prince. Adam looked at him, clearly startled.

"Dorgan has given you orders to rest," Marlena said gently.

"I can rest in a chair," Adam suggested in a teasing tone. Randor was astonished by the lightening change in his mood from bleak despondency to light-hearted kidding the space of a dozen breaths. What must be going through his mind to create such swift-changing spirits?

"He specified bed rest, Adam," his mother said firmly. "You're not getting up except to go to the bathroom."

"And even then not alone," Teela said. "Cringer will go with you at the very least, though I'd prefer someone a little more verbal went."

Cringer sat up a little and yowled loudly as if to prove that he was sufficiently verbal to be of use. He had a most offended expression on his face and when he thought he had proven his point, he growled at her.

"Cringe!" Adam exclaimed. "Hush." He scratched his tiger's head and got him to lie down again. Randor suppressed a chuckle.

Marlena had no such inhibitions. She laughed and stroked Cringer's back. "Good boy, you keep him in line."

"Teela has a point, Marlena," Randor said. "We need someone to stay with Adam, to make sure he . . . well . . ."

"I'm not going to do it again!" Adam exclaimed in frustration, glaring at his father. Randor looked at his son for a long moment, and the young man's eyes dropped. "I understand," he said dejectedly. "You don't trust me."

"Not about this," Randor said, gazing into Adam's eyes, willing him to understand. "You tried to kill yourself twice in the last day, we simply can't afford to risk it."

Adam turned and looked pleadingly at his mother, but Randor was relieved to see that she showed no signs of coddling. She wasn't going to relent. "Adam, we love you, and that means we're not going to take any risks that you might have another crisis when no one's around to stop you."

He looked irritated, but didn't seem to have an answer for her. "Well, I . . . I'm sorry," he said, his shoulders slumping. "I understand. But who are you going to get to take on the onerous duty of babysitting me?" he asked. "And what are you going to tell them?"

"That's a good question," Randor said, "and one I want to get Duncan and Dorgan both involved with. I think it's important that it be someone who can physically overpower you, can defend you if you get into trouble, and, obviously, someone who can follow you into the privy." This last was said in part to counter Teela's too obvious willingness to volunteer. "And someone who is utterly trustworthy with a state secret. It will take some thought."

"What about Raon?" Adam said, tilting his head. "He's very trustworthy, and already knows a number of state secrets, if things about me count as such." Adam shrugged. "I mean, we've been friends since we were boys." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Or perhaps Felinar. He's that nephew of Queen Mrey that has been working in the guard for the last year. I've spent some time with him, and I know he's a good man to have at your back." Adam blinked. "A good Qadian to have at your back."

Randor nodded, raising an eyebrow. Both those men were on his short list of candidates, but he thought he'd better check with Duncan first before going with the young men Adam had chosen. Perhaps there were reasons he wasn't aware of that would make them unsuitable. "I will certainly consider both those young men," he said. "But as I said, there may be things that Dorgan will want that I'm not yet aware of."

"Well," Adam said, sighing, "I'd be more comfortable if it was someone I know well."

Randor nodded and put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "I can understand that, and I'll do my best for you."

Adam smiled. "That would be great."

The door opened and a pair of medics came in. "Dinner for four," he said, grinning at them. They had with them small folding trays that would allow the patient's visitors to eat at the sides of the bed.

They ate and Adam didn't say much, seeming tired. In fact, after they were done, he said, "Would you mind choosing someone to stay with me and getting me a book? I'm getting a little too tired for conversation."

"Of course, Adam," his mother said. "I'll stay. There's already a guard posted outside the door and the window, so I should be sufficient company."

"Marlena?" Randor said, standing up and gesturing to her. She rose and walked over to him and he bit his lip. "Dear, one of the requirements was that Adam's . . . watcher, for lack of a better word . . . be able to overpower him. You don't qualify."

"Randor . . ." Marlena said, her eyes warning him to be careful with what he said.

"Nor can you reasonably follow him into to the privy, dear. I won't accept Teela for the same reasons, despite the fact that she's eager to help. I'm more likely to send for Mekanek, who's already in on the secret, or make a quick contact with Duncan and see if he thinks one of Adam's suggested fellows will do."

"Why don't you do that?" Marlena asked. "Mekanek's old enough to be his father. I know he's comfortable with him, but let's get things started properly if we can."

"Well, between you and Teela, I think you could manage him for the moment, so I'm going to go see if I can get Dorgan yet, and I'll call Duncan as well." She nodded, seeming satisfied. He walked over to the end of the bed. "Adam, I'm going to go out for a bit, so I'd like you to go . . um . . go to the restroom now so that your mother and Teela don't have to deal with it while I'm gone."

"FATHER!" Adam looked absolutely outraged. "I – I –"

No little embarrassed himself, Randor glared at him. "Come on, boy."

Beet red, Adam rose to his feet, and Randor, well aware that he was as scarlet as his son, accompanied him into the privy attached to the infirmary room. He didn't watch while Adam used the facility, but it was still excruciating. He tried to distract himself, but the room was singularly barren of interesting things to look at. The mirror was gone, as were all the small pieces of soothing artwork that would ordinarily adorn the walls. _This won't do,_ he thought. _A room like this would depress anyone._

When Adam had washed his hands, they walked out into the bedroom again, not looking at each other. Giving Marlena a nod, Randor left quickly. He checked first in Dorgan's office where he found the healer leaning over his desk, his head in his hands.

Alarmed, Randor knocked lightly on the door. "Did the operation go well?"

Dorgan looked up, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Oh, it went fine, Randor. Ivan will be up and around in a few days, but he won't be fit for duty for a good long while."

"I wouldn't have expected him to be," Randor said. "Not after having heart surgery." He paused, choosing his words. "I need to ask you about Adam."

"Come in, then, and close the door." Randor followed his instructions. The healer was looking unhappy, which didn't make Randor feel any too confident. "What did you need?" Dorgan asked in a weary voice.

"I want to provide Adam with a companion. The qualifications I've got in mind are that he be able to overpower him, defend him if need be, and that he can follow him into the privy without undue embarrassment. Can you think of any others to add?"

"Someone good natured, but able stand up to him if necessary," Dorgan said instantly. "He also needs to be someone who won't view the assignment as a bore, or a babysitting job. I can think of nothing worse than having someone who resents the situation staying with him, or someone who thinks he's malingering." Randor nodded thoughtfully. "Someone who would be willing to be friendly, play games with him. It would be best if you found someone he's already comfortable with, I would think, but not someone who will let him get away with anything."

Randor snorted. "So basically, I need a younger version of Mekanek?"

Dorgan nodded. "That would be a good start, I'd say, if you can find someone."

"You look exhausted, Dorgan. Are you going to bed soon?"

"He is if I have anything to say about it," a female voice said from the doorway. Randor turned and saw Dorgan's wife looking sternly at her husband. "I'm glad you saved that boy's life, but you will do him no good if you collapse."

"Yes, my dear. I'll be along in a moment."

She left, and Randor could tell that if he wasn't along soon, she'd be back with a vengeance. "Well, old friend, I will leave you then. It looks as if a higher authority than I has commanded you."

Dorgan waved him off irritably and Randor left the office, picking up his comlink as he walked out. "Duncan?" he called. "Where are you?"

"About ten feet away from the door of the infirmary, sire. Why, where are you?"

He walked to the door and opened it, putting his comlink on his belt. "Right here. I need to ask your advice, and we should be heading toward my office in any case for the moment."

"Of course, sire," Duncan said, turning to walk with him. "What is it?"

"I'll ask you when we get to my office," Randor said. "Anything to report?"

Duncan shook his head. "All seems to be well, sire. No problems except that Jenkins is in something of a tizzy over your absence."

Randor sighed. "Did you give him any details?" he asked.

"No, it wasn't my place," Duncan said. "I just said that Adam was ill and needed his father's attention."

Randor nodded. "Thank you." They reached his office, and Randor looked at Jenkins' anxious face. "I'm sorry. Unless there's a real emergency, you need to take things to Duncan for now. I need to be available to Adam. I will come in when I can."

Jenkins bowed. "Of course, sire," he said.

Randor took Duncan into his office and sat down behind his desk. Duncan sat in one of the chairs opposite it. "Yes, Randor?"

"We need someone to stay with Adam, someone who can be . . . well the upshot of what we need is a younger version of Mekanek. Good natured, likes Adam, won't think there's anything wrong in the task he's been assigned and will be friendly as well as able to stand up to him when necessary."

"So, you need a saint?" Duncan asked. "I don't know anyone who fits all those criteria."

"How about He-Man?" Randor suggested, sitting forward and smiling broadly.


	11. Friends

**Chapter 11 Friends**

Duncan stared in astonishment at his king. He didn't know what to say. How could he explain that He-Man was simply not available? He bit his lip. How _was_ he going to explain that in the long run? He-Man wouldn't show up for any battles until Adam was ready to take up the mantle again. "Don't you think people might find that a little... odd?" he said slowly. "After all, He-Man doesn't usually stay around very long, and he isn't actually one of your retainers."

Randor gave him a perplexed look. "Of course I know that's not reasonable," the king said, "it was more a joke than anything. Actually, Adam's made a few suggestions."

In the face of Randor's reaction, Duncan felt rather foolish. He hoped the king would put down his babbling to the stress of the day. "Suggestions?"

"Yes, and I wanted to run them by you before calling on them. He suggested Raon and Felinar. I'm sure you know both young men and their records."

Duncan nodded. "Yes, of course I do. What did you want to know?"

"I just wondered if there was any reason, anything less than appropriate –" He broke off, shaking his head. "Hell, that's coming out priggish and idiotic. What I mean is, does Adam think that he can get away with things with them, or has he taken them along on his . . . outings?" He bit his lip. "I'm not explaining this well."

"I think I gather your meaning, though, sire," Duncan said a shade heavily. _What does Randor think the boy gets up to? Carousing in town?_ Duncan considered that a moment. _No doubt he does . . . hell!_ "No, I don't think that's why. Both young men are sober, good workers, and I doubt very much that Adam could persuade them to do anything you would consider out of line."

"And I know Adam is likely to feel comfortable with Raon, and he seemed to think he'd feel comfortable with Felinar."

"Are you thinking in terms of one guard or two?" Duncan asked curiously. "There are twenty-four hours in the day, and the man will need to sleep."

"Perhaps three, then," Randor said. "That way none of them is on duty for more than eight hours." He nodded and stood up. Opening the door to the outer office, he called, "Jenkins?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Please sent for Guardsman Raon and Guardsman Felinar." He turned back to Duncan. "Which shifts are they on?"

Duncan thought for a moment. "Felinar is on the morning shift, so he's been off duty for about six hours. Raon is on the evening shift, so he's currently on duty. I think you'd do better with a different schedule, though. How about three men on twelve hour shifts, two days on and one day off. We don't know for certain how long this is going to last."

Randor nodded. "I see your point. Well, we'll need to come up with a third man then. When was the last day off for each of these two fellows?"

"Not sure off the top of my head, but surely you have a duty roster here."

Randor sorted through the papers on the top of his desk and found the requisite document and peered at it. "Felinar was off yesterday, and he's been off for six hours since his eight this morning . . ."

Duncan was now looking over the king's shoulder. "It looks like Raon's last day off was several days ago."

"Four, to be precise. Hmm . . . Do you have any suggestions for the third man?"

"Well," Duncan said, stroking his chin. "I think we should get a trio that can work together, even though they won't be on shift at the same time. They'll need to be able to communicate. I can think of several candidates." He pointed to the names on the roster. "But let's see what they come up with." He grimaced. "If they even agree."

"Why wouldn't they agree?" Randor asked irritably. "It's not a plum assignment, perhaps, but there's nothing shameful about it."

"Randor, I –" Duncan shook his head, at a loss to know what to say. He hoped now that both young men would agree without argument. Randor was being touchy, no doubt from a combination of fatherly concern and fatherly guilt.

There was a knock at the door. "Come!" Randor called. The two young men came in. Felinar had clearly been caught out of uniform, for he was wearing the tunic and trews that were traditional for his people. Raon was in full uniform, having been called from his duty post. Both men bowed and waited for the king's response. Duncan stood behind Randor, and he could see both of their eyes flick to him as it to see if he know what was going on. His expression, he hoped, said only that it a serious situation. Their eyes flicked back to the king's face immediately. "I have a very serious assignment that I would like to offer you. I want to make it clear from the outset that it is voluntary. If you don't wish to do it, there will be no negative consequence."

"Yes, sire," Felinar and Raon murmured in near-unison.

"What I am about to tell you must be held in the strictest of confidence, whether you take the assignment or not," Randor said. Both men nodded. "Adam has . . ." He paused, and Duncan looked down at him, concerned. "Adam is not . . ." Both Raon and Felinar started looking very alarmed. "He's become very depressed," Randor said, finally getting a sentence out. His voice was oddly wobbly. "He's very . . . well, last night, and this morning . . ." He paused again, and Duncan stood stolidly behind him despite the way both guards were now looking at him for advice and explanation.

Duncan put a hand on his king's shoulder and Randor seemed to take strength from it.

"Adam attempted suicide last night, and again this morning," Randor said.

* * *

Raon felt as if the floor had dropped out from under his feet. Adam had attempted suicide? Twice? But why? Raon cast his mind back on the last few times he'd seen Adam, and he couldn't think of any signs of that kind of depression. They hadn't talked much in . . . Raon bit his lip. In months. Maybe years.

Felinar beside him seemed just as sftunned. Ordinarily he was very taciturn, but he burst out with, "But, sire, why would Prince Adam ever do such a thing? He's never – I never got the impression –"

Man-at-Arms cleared his throat loudly and both of them came back to strict attention. Randor nodded. "Yes, I know. I was blindsided by it as well," he said. "I don't think anybody expected this." Raon had never seen the king so devastated in his life, and he'd lived at the palace since he was eight. "But that is the situation." Randor stopped speaking abruptly and turned away. Raon had the strangest impression that he was actually crying.

He glanced at Man-at-Arms again, wondering what the king was telling them all this for. He could see that Duncan was keeping his silence and his counsel, so he returned his eye to the front and waited. After several moments, the king regained his control.

"I'm sure you're wondering what it is I want from you," Randor said, turning again to face forward. "Adam must have someone with him at all times, someone who is willing and able to stand up to him if he should make another attempt, one who is capable of pinning him to the ground if the need arises." Raon blinked. He wondered if the king knew just how strong his son really was. He suspected that Randor and Adam hadn't engaged in many wrestling matches in the last five or so years. Jarvis, one of the other guardsmen, was assigned to work out with Adam, and he'd talked about how strong the prince was. Jarvis might be exaggerating, but Raon wasn't sure. The king was going on. "But it needs to be someone Adam feels comfortable with as well, someone who is worthy of the trust that this secret requires, and someone who will be able to spend a great deal of time with Adam without finding it problematic." He paused. "Does either of you feel that this is beyond your capabilities?"

Raon stepped forward. "No, sire, I don't."

At the same moment, Felinar said, "No, your highness."

Randor took in a deep breath and sighed. "I very much appreciate your willingness to volunteer for what is, admittedly, an unusual task. Now, I need your help. Can you, either of you, think of another man among the guardsman who fits all those qualifications?"

Raon bit his lip thoughtfully, and glanced at Felinar. The Quadian tilted his head. "I can think of several who might. But the one who seems most likely to be able to help the prince become more lighthearted is the man from the south called Nalineph."

Raon nodded. "Actually, Nalineph is the one who came to mind for me as well," he said. "I know he likes Adam, and he's spent as much time around him as I have lately." He flushed, realizing that if he had spent more time around Adam in the past year or so, he might not have had this problem. "And he's a very cheerful fellow, very loyal and I know he's trustworthy. I've spent some off-duty time with him, so I know him fairly well."

"Though he is, perhaps, a bit high strung," Felinar said. "I do not think it would detract from his ability to carry out this task, however."

The king looked up at Man-at-Arms who nodded. "Then perhaps I should send for him as well."

"Nalineph is currently on a sleeping shift," Duncan said. "Why don't I fetch him and bring him up to date on Adam's condition?"

"Of course, Duncan, that sounds like an excellent plan."

"And you might mention the blood pressure issue as well, your highness," Duncan said. Bowing, he left. Raon returned his attention to the king, his brows knitting.

"Ah yes," Randor said, "Adam's blood pressure." He took another deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. "Dorgan also is concerned that Adam's blood pressure is sufficiently high that there is danger of stroke."

Raon gulped. _Stroke? That can be fatal!_ He tried to keep his reactions under control, but he could see that the king saw it. Far from annoying him, though, it seemed to reassure him. Felinar's ears were twitching wildly, a sure sign of distress in a Qadian.

"As a result, he has been restricted to the infirmary for a week, and his bed for a few days – until Dorgan says otherwise. That will be part of your job. To ensure that he remains in bed until he has permission to be out of it. To see that he behaves himself in terms of his health."

"Of course, Sire," Raon said. Felinar nodded next to him.

"And, since he will not be permitted weapons of any kind, you will need to be prepared to defend him against any attacks."

They both nodded and Felinar said, "Are you expecting any attacks in specific, your highness?"

"No, Felinar," the king said. "I'm trying to think if there's anything else in particular you need to be aware of. I think I'll wait to discuss the schedule with you until Nalineph arrives."

"Of course, sire," Raon said.

They were all silent for a long moment, and then Felinar said, "May I ask where the prince is now, your highness?"

"He's in the infirmary with his mother and Teela."

"Shouldn't one of us go take up our duties at least temporarily to relieve the queen and the captain of the guard?"

"I don't think it's necessary just yet. Though . . ." The king looked thoughtful. "Please, both of you, wait here. If Duncan and Nalineph arrive while I'm gone tell them I'll be back shortly."

The king left them alone and they both stood still for a moment. Then Felinar said, "You have known Prince Adam since you were both small boys, have you not?"

Raon nodded. "We used to play together as children."

"I see." Felinar stood silently. Then he cleared his throat. "I would not have expected this sort of a reaction. Does it make any more sense to you than it does to me?"

Raon shook his head. "No. I would never . . . I don't know what to think."

"He has always seemed to me to be rather a cheerful man, very concerned about the feelings of others. He took care to make certain that I and all the other Qadians who arrived with me were comfortable in our quarters, and I'm sure he was not assigned to do so because the quartermaster came out after he had already seen to things and was surprised to find that all had been dealt with."

"That sounds like Adam, all right," Raon said. He felt sharp stabs of guilt that Adam could have fallen into such a deep depresssion without his noticing. He wondered what had sparked it. He hadn't thought things could be precisely easy for the prince, but Adam had always carried off what few duties his father assigned him with such flair that it had never occurred to Raon to look beneath the surface.

The tension between Adam and his father had to have been hard to bear, but he'd never shown much sign of difficulty, and Raon began to wonder if that hadn't been a sign all on its own. The universally cheerful and happy prince . . . The king had always seemed unhappy enough with the situation.

Raon sighed. This was getting him nowhere. He shouldn't be mentally bemoaning the past, he should be considering ways to improve Adam's present.

The door opened and Man-at-Arms came in with Nalineph who looked unwontedly serious. "Where did the king go?"

"I believe, sir, that he went to visit Prince Adam," Raon said. "He said he would return shortly."

Man-at-Arms nodded. "I see. Well, the schedule Randor and I have discussed is a very simple one. Each of you will serve a twelve-hour shift, two days running, then have a day off. Right now what matters is getting someone with Adam as soon as possible, and frankly, I'm not sure which of you is freshest."

"I've only been on shift for a couple of hours," Raon said. "I could certainly finish out the night with no difficulties.

Nalineph yawned. "I can do it, I know. But I've only been asleep for about three hours, so I think I had better excuse myself from the first shift if there are fresher men."

"Very good," Duncan said. "And Felinar?"

"I have only had one duty shift since my last free day. I should think I could go on duty now or in the morning without trouble."

The door opened and the king entered. Raon stood just a little straighter and was aware of both Felinar and Nalineph doing the same. Man-at-Arms never seemed to relax, though there was something about him that allowed one to relax in his presence.

"Ah," Randor said. "Nalineph, has Duncan told you the situation?"

"Yes, sire."

"And you are willing to take on this duty?"

"I am, sire."

"Very well. Has there been any discussion of the schedule?" the king asked.

"Yes, we were just talking about that now," Man-at-Arms said.

"Any objections?" Raon shook his head as did the others. "Good."

"Sire?" Man-at-Arms said. The king looked at him. "I believe we had just about settled on Raon for the current shift and Felinar for the morning."

Randor looked at them. "Is this acceptable to you?"

"Yes, sire," Raon said.

"Completely, your highness," Felinar said.

"And then Nalineph, do you think you could take the evening shift tomorrow? I thought perhaps shift change could fall at seven."

"That suits me," Nalineph said.

"Very well. Nalineph, Felinar, you are dismissed. I'll want you to report to me in the morning before going on shift, Felinar, and Nalineph, at some point during the day tomorrow."

Both of them saluted and Randor sat down as they left. "Raon, take a seat."

Raon did, but sat at attention. "Here is the thing I want you to understand. You are not acting as a bodyguard, so the rules you have undoubtedly been taught as a bodyguard are not in force." Raon nodded. "I want you to be friendly and open with Adam. If he talks to you, talk back. Sit with him, chat with him, eat with him. He doesn't merely need a person with him to prevent him from doing himself an injury." The king shook his head, seeming uncertain how to further express what he wanted.

"Sire, I'm his friend," Raon said, when the king's pause lengthened. "I think I understand what you're saying."

"That's it exactly," Randor said. "Be his friend. I think it would be better for him to feel that we got three of his friends to volunteer for this task than that three guards are dutifully standing watch over him. Since it is true that all three of you are his friends . . ." Randor sighed, visibly tired.

"I understand, sire," Raon said. "I will do my best."

"Thank you, Raon." The king stood. "Let me take you to him, then."


	12. Mistakes

**Chapter 12 - Mistakes**

Adam had hoped that his father would give up on the notion of having someone watching over him all the time, but when he'd come in a half an hour after he'd left to see if his son needed to use the privy again, Adam had realized that he really didn't have a chance of that. All he could realistically hope for was that he'd be able to convince them he was better quickly, dispense with the constant watching and persuade Man-at-Arms to give him back his sword. He-Man would be needed sooner or later, and Adam couldn't shirk that duty, not as he shirked so many others.

His mother was sitting nearby, embroidering peacefully. She'd sent someone for some handiwork for herself at the same time as she'd sent for a book for him. Teela, on the other hand, seemed about ready to bounce off the walls. He was amused that she had wanted to volunteer for the task of watching him, because she'd have gone stark raving nuts in ten minutes if she'd tried to remain in the room with a bedridden prince.

He watched at her nervously, astonished by what had happened earlier, and by her declarations that she had been wrong and would mend her ways. He didn't know what to make of them or whether to trust that she'd keep to them. After the past three years he was leery of her, and he hated himself for not trusting the woman who was, after all, his oldest friend.

Three years of jeers and contempt was hard to overcome, though, regardless of her claims to have seen the light. She turned and looked at him, the warmth and worry in her eyes overwhelming his doubts. She was his friend, and everybody makes mistakes sometimes. _Three years' worth?_ a skeptical part of his mind whispered, but he ignored it.

"Are you all right, Adam?" Teela asked anxiously, coming to his side. "Do you need anything? A drink? Something to eat? Maybe a different book?"

"No, I'm fine," Adam said. She sat down beside him on the bed, and he flushed, pulling away slightly. She sighed irritably, but Adam was not comfortable being so close in front of one of their parents. Duncan had been upset to find them together, and Adam still wasn't sure why. He hadn't seen Man-at-Arms alone for five minutes today to ask, and there was no knowing. Even after three years he was still occasionally discovering new requirements or side effects of being the champion of Grayskull.

What if he had to remain celibate? The opportunity to act otherwise hadn't really presented itself thus far, and perhaps Duncan hadn't seen any reason to tell him. He was very aware of the warmth of Teela's body so close to his . . . very aware. What if having a sexual relationship with a woman would mean he couldn't be He-Man anymore?

The idea wasn't as distressing as it should have been. No more lies. No more sneaking away and avoiding fights. But the image of his father being carried away by a griffin flashed before his eyes, a persistent nightmare since his sixteenth birthday. He groaned and thumped his head against the headboard of the bed.

His mother leaned forward and Teela turned. They spoke almost together.

"What is it, Adam?" his mother asked.

"Are you all right?" Teela asked.

Adam grimaced. "I'm fine, really. I just had . . . I just thought of something unpleasant." To his relief, neither woman pressed him, though Teela stroked his cheek gently. As she did so, he remembered something she'd said this morning. She knew he had a secret . . . she didn't care . . . and she didn't want to be told what it was. He watched her profile in astonishment as she fussed with his blankets. Was that it? Was that all it had taken to change how she thought of him? Something seemed to alert her to his gaze, for she turned slightly and flushed. He reached up without thinking and brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. She still hadn't put it up again.

Her cheeks grew rosier still and he smiled at her, resting the backs of his fingers against her cheek. He was still reeling from that moment of discovery when their lips had touched. She raised her hand to his and smiled back.

The door to his room opened and he dropped his hand abruptly. She straightened her hair a little and stood up. His father came in accompanied by Duncan and Raon. Adam blinked to see him. He had, at this point, expected his father to bring a guard for him, but he hadn't actually thought the king would take his son's suggestions as to whom the guard should be.

Raon looked at him worriedly, and Adam looked away, down toward the foot of his bed. And he hadn't taken into consideration that anyone his father chose to be his guard would undoubtedly have to be told what had happened over the past twenty-four hours. He had no idea what Raon's reaction was going to be.

Adam's father walked over to the bed and pulled up a chair. Raon stood behind him, and Duncan walked around to put his arm on Teela's shoulders. Feeling a bit like he was being boorish, Adam looked up at Raon. "Hi," he said. It wasn't much of a greeting, but it was better than none.

Raon seemed tongue-tied. He just nodded in response.

"Adam, we have decided on a guard team for you."

"Team?" Adam asked, glancing at Raon.

"Yes. One man could certainly not cover all twenty-four hours in the day. Raon will be starting off this evening, and Felinar will take up tomorrow morning."

Adam nodded, glancing over at Raon again. His old friend was still looking at him with anxiety. Adam felt a pang of guilt, seeing his distress, and dropped his eyes back to the foot of the bed. There was no way out of the box he was in. An attempt at suicide merely upset everyone around him, and they weren't going to let him go. And Cringer . . . Teela was right, he couldn't leave Cringer like that.

Not that he'd ever really seriously considered suicide, not even that night when Teela came in. He really didn't think he would have done it. He never had before, and last night wasn't the first time he'd sat in his room with a strong bottle and dire thoughts. It was only the first time he'd actually gone and gotten the dagger.

He bit his lip. There were too many people in the room, too many thoughts crowding his head. He could feel pressure building up in his mind. His father was still talking, but Adam hadn't heard a word.

He looked up abruptly into his father's eyes. He was the only one shy of Dorgan who could clear the room. His sudden movement startled his father into silence. "I need . . . please, Father, tell me all about it tomorrow. I need to be alone now." He grimaced. "Or at least as alone as I can be."

* * *

Randor looked down at his son, whose face was creased with distress and dismay. "Adam, let me –" he said, leaning down toward him.

Adam drew away, his face growing abruptly blank. "Please, Father, not now."

The king pulled back instantly. "Of course, son." He was alarmed by the sudden change in Adam's expression. "Marlena?"

His wife stood slowly. "Are you sure, Adam?" she asked.

"I asked for it earlier," Adam said, his tone growing impatient. "That's what set this process of finding me a babysitter into motion. I'm . . . I'm sorry." He looked up at his mother, his eyes full of entreaty. "It's too much. It's just too much."

"Of course, Adam," she said. "Of course." She bent down and gave him a hug which he returned with interest. "I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded and caught Teela's hand. "You're being very understanding, please be understanding again. I need you to go, too."

Randor looked at the girl, ready for any form of explosion. She'd always been fiery and given to bursts of temper. To his surprise, she gave him a wobbly smile. "I'm sorry, Adam," she quavered, then hugged him fiercely and ran from the room.

Adam watched her with wide, startled eyes then turned back to the king. "Now, Father, if you don't mind, I haven't gotten to talk to Duncan alone yet today, and I think we're all reasonably certain that if I took a sudden fancy to turning the bed sheets into a noose, he could stop me. If he could stay for a few moments with Raon waiting outside?" Randor nodded. Then he bent and hugged his son tightly. Adam patted him on the back, seeming to be made a bit uncomfortable by the gesture, but Randor wasn't letting that stop him. He drew back. "I love you, son. I think I may have been a little remiss in saying that of late, but it's the truth."

Then he stood up again, put his arm around Marlena and went out, followed by Raon.

* * *

Duncan looked down at the young man whom he had failed so utterly. "I – I –"

"What happened at Grayskull?" Adam asked, his voice flat. "Father said there was a battle but that it was easily won. What happened?"

Brought to business abruptly, Duncan gaped for a second. "It was a very easy battle. I'm really not sure what Skeletor's goal was, but he didn't try anything new."

"Then we've got to be prepared . . ." Adam said. "He may be trying to wear us down or . . . Duncan, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Adam, you're not going to be involved in the defense of Grayskull for awhile, and if Dorgan knew all, I suspect he'd forbid me to talk to you about it except in general terms."

"Well, Dorgan doesn't know," Adam said, his eyes flashing. "Look, I can't –"

"The Sorceress knows what has happened," Duncan said, interrupting the prince, who faltered to a stop. He looked down. "I told her after the battle."

Adam's shoulders slumped. "I'm sure she's very disappointed in me," he said, his voice bleak and dismayed.

Duncan's heart went out to the boy. He knelt by the bed and took Adam's hand. "She's not, Adam, truly. We haven't been as supportive of you as we might have been, and we've both realized that."

Adam blinked for a moment, then turned a very odd, almost unfriendly look on him. "Have you, now?" he said. "That's new." Adam shook his head. "Look, Duncan, I don't need this now. I've got enough emotional upheavals going on between Teela deciding that I'm not a worthless coward, my father acting like he actually gives a damn about me, and my feeling guilty any time any one of you looks at me for having hurt you by being so unhappy that I want to end it all." Adam took a deep breath, looking startled by the torrent of words that had gushed forth. He didn't stop, though. "I can't deal with you and . . . and _her_ deciding that you've been treating me badly all this time. I don't need to hear that the only people who actually knew what was going on with me let me suffer needlessly . . . it's more than I can take."

Duncan felt as if Adam had taken all the air out of him. "Adam, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I don't care." The look Adam was giving him now wasn't unfriendly, it was merely numb. "I simply don't have the energy to care. Be sorry, it makes no difference to me. I just need to know, how long is the Sorceress going to tolerate you keeping the sword from me?"

He shook his head. "There's no need to worry about that, Adam. We're both very concerned about your well-being."

Adam's eyes went distant, and Duncan wondered what he was thinking. "Of course. He-Man won't ever show up again if Prince Adam dies. I should have thought of that."

"That's not all it is," Duncan protested.

"I don't really care," Adam said, and Duncan bit his lip the prince's frigid tone. "Good night, Man-at-Arms. It's time for me to try and sleep."

Duncan nodded and reached down to give Adam a hug. The young man responded stiffly and without any real sign of affection. Trying not to show his dismay, Duncan left the room, holding the door open for Raon to allow him to walk in. He heard Adam welcoming the guard in fairly warm tones as he shut the door behind himself. Marlena was gone, as was Teela, and Duncan rather suspected that they were together. Randor was waiting for him with a very hopeful expression. Duncan suffered himself to be drawn along with the king into his study, where he sat and tried to imagine what he could possibly do next to ruin this family's life.

"So, did he say anything?" Randor asked urgently. "Did he tell you anything?" The expression on his face as well as the tone in his voice reminded Duncan that Randor had expressed a hope earlier in the afternoon that Duncan would be able to find out what he could not. Because Adam talked to him.

He shook his head. "No, Randor, Adam didn't say much."

"But he asked to talk to you especially. Why would he do that if he didn't have anything he wanted to say?"

Duncan crossed his arms and studied his vambrace. "He's not much happier with me than he is with you," he said truthfully. "Randor, I don't think you're going to be able to expect much help from me in this instance. I'm afraid Adam is angry with us all."

"Except his mother," Randor said. "And except Teela." The king shook his head. "He's never been at outs with his mother that I'm aware of though I know he's never told her his problems because she's complained as much to me. I really don't see that changing."

Duncan nodded disconsolately. "And I think Teela's an entirely different story, I'm afraid."

Randor snorted. "I'm sure you're right." He shook his head. "I wish I could understand this. I can't begin to guess what could be giving Adam such stress. Is it because he has such difficulty fighting? Or am I putting too much pressure on him? I just . . . I can't deny the emotion, it's plain to see on his face, but I can't see the source. He is utterly and totally adrift, but without some understanding of the cause, I have difficulty seeing our way to a solution."

"Sometimes the cause isn't important," Duncan said, "in cases of emtional distress." He closed his eyes. "Randor, I'm feeling very tired suddenly. Would you mind if I turned in?"

"No, of course not," his friend said. "I'm sorry. Here you come back, fresh from battle, take up the slack for me, and I'm expecting you to stay up late. Go to bed, Duncan."

Duncan stood up and nodded to his king and left, feeling like the biggest ass on the continent. There he sat, with full knowledge of everything that was causing Adam such trouble, not telling his father. And there was nothing to be done about it.

He went to his own rooms and into his bedchamber where he started shedding his armor – but not his guilt. Evidently apologizing to Adam had been the wrong move. Breaking the hard line they'd held toward him had not helped.

When he was undressed, he sank onto the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands. Between them, he and the Sorceress had taken a bright, cheerful young man of sixteen and in three years rendered him an efficient fighting machine that no longer wanted to be alive at the end of the fight. What was the right next move? What could he do to redeem the awful mess he'd made of things?

No answers were forthcoming. He finished his nightly routine and got into bed.


	13. Guilt & Apologies

**Chapter 13 - Guilt & Apologies**

Teela stood in the queen's solar, looking out over the darkened gardens. Marlena had brought her in here and then ordered some chai for them, and the younger woman had wandered across the room to look out. Last night at this time she had been crossing the gardens below, unaware that Adam was so miserable that he was contemplating suicide. So much had changed since then.

"Teela?" She turned to face the queen, who smiled at her and sat down.

Teela drifted back across the room to sit beside her. "Yes, my queen?"

"Thank you. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you brought this to our attention. I knew he was unhappy, but I obviously didn't know how bad it had gotten."

"There's nothing to thank me for," Teela said honestly. "There's no way I could have done anything differently."

Marlena reached out and caught her hand, squeezing it. "Well, thank you anyway. It means a lot to me."

"I just wish . . ." Teela shook her head. "I just wish my realization could have come a little sooner. Like three years ago."

Marlena reached out her hand and tucked some of Teela's errant hair behind her ear. "You may be wishing that a lot over the next few months, my dear." Uncertain what to say to that, Teela remained silent. "I have been pleased to see your change of heart over the past weeks, but I hope you don't think it will be as easy as telling him you were wrong and that you're sorry."

"I don't," Teela said earnestly. "I don't know how to make it up to him."

Marlena smiled. "I know. And I can see that you want to, but you need to remember that our Adam is a very perceptive young man."

Teela knit her brows. "I don't understand."

The queen pursed her lips and was silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. "Teela, how guilty do you feel over the way you've behaved?"

She gulped. "Very," she said. "There are moments when it overwhelms me and all I can think is how much he should hate me."

"But he doesn't."

"Right, and that makes me feel even worse."

"Well, you need to put a clamp on that guilt, because if he ever once gets the feeling that anything you do for him is not motivated by genuine affection, but by guilt, he would be utterly devastated, especially when he's in this condition."

Teela's first instinct was to deny that she would ever do anything out of guilt, but the habit, gained over the last months, of thinking before she spoke stopped her before the words were uttered. Marlena hadn't suggested that she would. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked. "Am I already showing signs of that?"

"Your farewell to him tonight gave something of that impression. I don't think it's anything serious yet, I just wanted to suggest that you be wary of yourself." Marlena paused again, and again Teela got the feeling that she was measuring her words carefully. "I'm not saying it's true or even that it's likely, but as you proceed, you should also weigh your own thoughts and reactions to be sure that you are not reacting out of guilt. I don't necessarily mean that you've done anything yet that falls into that category, but you should pay very close attention. And you might want to be aware that even if you aren't, Adam may at some point put that construction on your actions."

Teela shook her head. "But . . . I don't know how to . . . I don't think I . . ."

Marlena sighed and took her hand. "Teela, sweetheart, what I'm counseling may seem odd and out of place in the circumstances, but I really think you need to put the past behind you. You have made your apologies, he has heard and acknowledged them. Any further apologies will simply remind him of how things have been, and that's the last thing you want to do."

"So what should I do?"

"Just spend time with him, child!" Marlena said with a hint of affectionate exasperation. "When you want to. Live in the moment. Enjoy the time you spend with him, but don't dredge up the ghosts of the past."

Teela nodded. It made sense, but she had a feeling it was going to be very hard. Every time she saw Adam, she thought of what a bitch she'd been to him. "What if he wants to talk about it?"

"Then talk about it. Be honest, but don't wallow. And don't encourage him to wallow." Marlena squeezed her hand. "And Teela?"

"Yes?"

"Don't expect that love will solve everything, or even much." Marlena was gazing directly into her eyes, and Teela flushed. "If the two of you decide you are in love, it won't make him instantly better, and it won't make everything all right between you. Love is a lot of work when there's no baggage."

"Why have I been such an idiot?" Teela moaned.

"I don't know," Marlena said. "But this is exactly the kind of thing you can't say to him. If you must say it, if you need to express it, bring it to me. I am always here for you, my dear."

Teela felt tears coming to her eyes. "I'm surprised you don't hate me," she said. "After all the things I've said."

Marlena cupped Teela's chin in her hand. "You are very young, and I hoped you would come to your senses, which you have. Now, it's time for you to go to bed. Are you taking your shift tomorrow?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Teela confessed.

"I suspect that someone has given us all the day off tomorrow by whatever means are possible, but I will check. Go to bed, child. Get some sleep."

Teela nodded and got up. The queen rose with her and gave her a hug. "Good night."

"Good night, my queen."

* * *

Randor returned to the suite he shared with Marlena to find that she hadn't come back from speaking with Teela yet. He began to disrobe, feeling very heavy with all the guilt and grief he had taken on today. He went into the bathing room and cleaned up, reflecting that he didn't know what he should do – what he could do – to persaude Adam that he did love him, despite . . .

He shook his head resolutely, dismissing such thoughts as unproductive.

Marlena came in as he walked back into the bed chamber, drying his face. She walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I need to talk to you before you go to bed, dear," she said. "But I want to get cleaned up first."

He walked across to the loveseat that sat in one corner of their room near a bookcase and Marlena's work basket. They found all too little time to spend together there, especially since the mystic wall fell and loosed Skeletor on them all.

After about a quarter of an hour, Marlena emerged, scrubbed and dressed in a voluminous nightgown. She smiled to see him sitting on their loveseat, reading, and walked across to join him, curling up at the other end of the seat. He put his book aside and gave her his attention.

"First, Randor, I'd like to apologize for the scene I made in Adam's room this morning. It was unhelpful and unproductive."

"I contributed my own fair share to that scene," he said. "It is forgotten."

She nodded. "Well, what I have to say next isn't going to be pleasant, I fear, but please bear with me, my love, because I think it's both necessary and urgent."

"Of course, Marlena," he said.

"Adam is very angry with you, and I think at this point you understand at least some of why."

Randor grimaced. "I've been rotten to him, I know. I don't know . . . I can't . . ." He sighed. "You have more to say than that, though, so please, go on."

She reached out and stroked his cheek. "You feel a complex mixture of guilt, anger and exasperation towards him right now, I think, and you must keep all those emotions in very strong check, my love, or you run the risk of making things very much worse."

"Marlena?" He shook his head. "I'm not angry with him." She gazed at him levelly, and he wilted under her steady look. "I don't understand," he said. "I can't see the pressures on him, and he won't tell anyone what they are."

She sighed. "Just because we can't see them doesn't mean they aren't very real," she said. "But I'm only telling you what I told Teela, though her emotions are simpler at this point. Adam doesn't need to feel the weight of your guilt. You've apologized. Now you need to move on. Don't keep apologizing, it will only bring up the old wounds."

"But Marlena, I don't think he believes me."

"I'm sure he doesn't entirely," she said frankly and he blinked at her in shock. "And that's part of the problem. He already isn't sure what he thinks of what you're saying. Repetition of the words won't do you any good. Think about your diplomacy. How do you prove to a potential ally that he can trust you? Do you tell him so?"

"No, it takes some act of good faith . . ." He sighed, realizing what she was trying to say to him. "I need to give Adam some good faith, is that it?"

"You need to spend time with him, Randor. And it needs to be sincere. Adam is already going to be skeptical of anything you do or say that smacks of affection." He grimaced. "I'm sorry, but it's true. And he's perceptive enough to know it if you're there to 'show good faith.' If you don't want to spend time with him, don't go. Staying away would not be worse than going because you feel duty-bound."

That felt like a slap in the face. "But, Marlena, I – I never stopped loving him. I just –" He shook his head. "I feel tremendously guilty, and that informs everything I do right now. I don't think I could stop it."

Marlena sighed. "The important thing is not to show him the guilt. He feels guilty enough for making us all upset. He doesn't need your guilt on top of his." She squeezed Randor's hand. "He's got to be feeling very overwhelmed right now. And I don't like how his moods keep shifting like wildfire in dry grass. Just spend time with him and be his father. Don't be King Randor, and don't be the stern man who has been masquerading as his father for a long while now." Randor flushed at that all too accurate description of his behavior towards his son over the past few years. She took his hand and squeezed it. "Think back on the way you two behaved when he was too young for you to expect things of him and try to fit that feeling into how you feel now." He was still trying to absorb this mountain of advice when she stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "It's time for us to go to bed, my love. We both need sleep, and you're going to have to find Adam some task that will keep him busy without adding to his stress."

Randor nodded. "I'm having trouble thinking of something. The main difficulty is that if I give Adam something that will require extra work on someone's part, he's quite likely to figure it out, and I have a feeling that make work will not make him happy."

"Are there any low key projects that need done that you've been putting off because they simply weren't important enough?" Randor knit his brow, considering the question and Marlena laughed, catching his hands and pulling him to his feet. "Think about it in the morning," she said. "You can't do him or the nation any good if you're asleep on your feet tomorrow."

He allowed her to drag him to bed and lay down, falling almost immediately to sleep.

* * *

When the door closed, Raon looked down at Adam and said, "So I'm your babysitter?"

"Well, that's what it comes down to, isn't it?" Adam asked, shrugging. Cringer was a heavy weight on his legs, fast asleep. "You're here to keep me from doing myself an inury, as they say in novels."

"And to make sure you don't disobey your healer's orders," Raon said, sitting down. "Actually, Adam, I'm here because I just heard that an old friend needed me."

"And you've been assigned," Adam said. "I'm not trying to be rude, but that is part of why, isn't it?"

Raon shrugged. "It certainly makes it easier, but I can tell you, if I'd heard that you needed someone in this kind of a position, I would have pulled whatever strings I could find to get on the detail."

"Really?" Adam asked skeptically. "It can't exactly seem like a plum assignment. You get to watch the prince brush his teeth."

Raon leaned back in his chair looking supremely relaxed. "I get to get paid for catching up with an old friend. I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

"What's there to catch up with?" Adam asked. "The prince is a wastrel and a coward, end of story."

"And he's sulking."

Adam stared in astonishment. "I am not s –" He glared. "Damn it!"

Raon shrugged again, leaning forward with a wry grin. "You didn't expect me to cosset, did you?" Adam uttered a phrase he'd never used aloud before and Raon raised both eyebrows. "Well, I didn't know you knew that word."

"I'm not deaf," Adam said irritably.

"No, I suppose not. I'm impressed, although since your mother's not here it's less impressive."

"Do you want me to say it when my mother's here?" Adam asked, glowering.

"Not really," Raon said with a snicker. "She'd probably think you learned it from me."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "There, now that's an interesting idea."

"Oh, here we go again," Raon said, rolling his eyes. "The old 'blame it on Raon' routine."

"Hey, it's not my fault my father held you accountable for sinking that boat," Adam exclaimed. "I told him it was my idea."

"As I recall, he said I should have known better," Raon said.

Adam shrugged. "You were three years older than us. You probably should have."

Raon laughed. "Probably." He paused, looking around the room. "So, you kicked everyone else out. Do you really want to go to sleep?"

Adam looked away from his friend's face. "Not exactly. I just – too many thoughts were wheeling through my head. I couldn't get a grip on them, and the more people that were here, the worse it was getting."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks, Raon, but I think I need to work this through on my own."

Raon leaned closer, hazel eyes very serious. "Forgive me for being blunt, but isn't that what landed you here in the first place?"

Adam shook his head. "It's more complicated than that. And I can't tell you the real core of the problem."

"Why not?" Raon asked, tilting his head. "Can't? Or won't?"

Closing his eyes, Adam rested his head against the headboard. "Let me put it another way. If I could tell you what the problem was, there wouldn't be a problem." Raon looked puzzled by this. "I can't tell my mother about it. If I can't talk to her, there's no way I can talk to you."

Raon snorted. "Oh, come on, Adam. Surely there are lots of things you can't talk to your mother about. I mean, you're nineteen years old and she's your mother."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "It's not really that easy to explain," he said. "I can't think of anything in my life that I couldn't talk to Mother about, even . . ." Adam flushed.

"Are you gay?" Raon asked in a hushed voice.

Utterly astonished, Adam shook his head. "No, I'm not gay!" he exclaimed, blushing up to the roots of his hair. "Hardly! And if I was, I could talk to my mother about it."

"Oh." Raon shook his head. "Something you can't talk to your mother about." He looked thoughtful, and Adam wasn't sure what he was doing. "Did you murder someone?"

"No!" Adam glared at him. "What are you asking that for?"

"I'm just trying to think of something you couldn't talk to your mother about. It's not easy."

"Don't try," Adam said. "You'll just give yourself a headache and there's no way you'll ever think of it." Raon didn't look discouraged, instead he looked as if he smelled a challenge. Adam groaned, anticipating a whole barrage of idiotic guesses. "I need to think," he said.

Raon nodded. "Maybe you should start keeping a journal. I've heard that can help put your thoughts in order."

Contemplating the circumlocutions he'd have to go to in order to put his thoughts about being He-Man down on paper, Adam shook his head. "It would be more trouble than benefit," he said. Leaning his head back against the headboard, he sighed. "God, I want a drink."

Raon sat up straighter. "What can I get you? Water? Fruit juice?"

Adam gave him a dirty look. "Brandy."

"Oh, you want alcohol," he said. "Sorry, I didn't – are you on any medications?"

"Something for blood pressure."

"Then alcohol is out, my friend."

Adam blinked. "It's no doubt out anyway," he said. "Didn't they tell you?'

"Tell me what?"

The prince gave a wry snort. "I was drinking alone in my room last night when I tried to kill myself," he explained.

Raon flinched visibly. "You gotta not do that again," he said, his voice shaking. "You really did try to . . . to . . ."

Adam grimaced. "I was drunk. I thought I'd hurt Teela, and on top of everything else that's been going wrong lately, I couldn't take it. I tried to jump off my balcony."

"Elders!" Raon blinked at him. "Adam, that's – that's –"

"Crazy, I know." Adam shrugged. "It doesn't make any sense to me now. I keep telling them I won't do it again, but –"

"Your father said you tried twice. What was the second time?"

Adam looked down at his hands and the small cut on his wrist that made a mockery of his claims not to have serioulsy considered suicide. He hadn't been drunk then . . . he had no excuses. "I think I need to be getting to sleep now," he said, rolling over. Raon took a breath as if he were going to say something, but he evidently thought better of it, opting to remain silent. Adam lay on his side, his back to Raon, and closed his eyes, intending to think.

And that was the last thing he knew till morning.


	14. Changing Perspectives

**Chapter 14 - Changing Perspectives**

Teela awoke to the sound of her alarm and sat up blinking. Reaching out, she took up her comlink and called to make sure that someone else had been arranged to take her shift this morning. That done, she climbed out of bed and went into her bathing chamber to get ready for the day. Marlena's advice danced in her head, making her anxious. She didn't want to do the wrong thing. Adam was so precarious right now . . .

Her hair pulled back in its usual style, she dressed in her uniform and looked at herself in the mirror. Was it too formal, too authoritarian, too severe? She turned and rummaged in her closet, trying to find something a little less official. She didn't have much. In the back there were still a few things left over from the days before she had been given the position of captain of the guard. A couple of dresses and a pair of coveralls.

To her dismay, the coveralls didn't fit even remotely. They looked rather indecent actually. One of the dresses was much the same, but the other, which had been loose and kind of bag-like on her a few years ago, now fit her smoothly. Even it was a little tight on her in a few unexpected places. She took her hair out of the tiara she normally wore and brushed it out, looking at herself with her hair flowing freely. _This will drive me nuts,_ she thought. _But Adam seemed to like it yesterday . . ._

Rummaging in her dressing table, she found a clip and pulled the front part of her hair away from her face and looked at the result. Shrugging, she decided she looked passable and went out into the sitting room of the suite.

Her father was just coming in and he stopped dead on the threshold. "Good morning, Teela," he said, staring at her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, walking the rest of the way into the room. "Are you going to go cheer Adam up?"

"If he's receiving visitors this morning," she said, sighing. "But I thought I should be a little less formal . . . less stiff. I'm not on duty, and I think it should show."

"It shows," her father said. He seemed a little odd this morning, uncomfortable somehow.

"Father, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, Teela. Don't worry. Just go along to Adam's room. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

She walked out into the halls toward the infirmary, contemplating that she was going to need some more clothes if she planned to make her garments a statement about why she was spending time with Adam. Wearing the same dress over and over wouldn't look good.

When she entered the infirmary, one of the medics approached her. "Can I help you, miss?" he said, seeming somewhat harried. He was holding a pad and making notes and not really looking up.

She blinked at him. "I'm here to see Adam," she said.

"Only family and close friends allowed," he replied, being very formal and clearly not looking at her closely. "I can take a message if you like."

Irritation warred with amusement. "Fine," she said, "would you tell the prince that Teela wants to see him?"

The medic looked up and his eyes widened. "Captain, I'm sorry. I didn't – I hadn't –"

"It's all right," she said. "Excuse me." Eager to escape his protestations and apologies, she walked over to Adam's bedchamber and knocked on the door.

A moment later the queen opened it for her and her eyes widened too. Then she said, "Good morning, Teela." Her voice was warm and her gaze was approving. Teela could feel her cheeks flush, but she was taking Marlena's advice very much to heart. Dressing as the captain of the guard to visit Adam could only give him the impression that it was a duty-related visit.

She walked inside and smiled across at Adam, who was sitting up with Cringer on the bed at his feet. Felinar stood on the other side of the bed, looking phlegmatic. Adam looked over at her and his eyes widened. She was beginning to wonder if there was something odd about what she was wearing, but surely the queen would have said something if she looked strange.

As she crossed the room towards him, Adam couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. She walked over to the bed and sat down. "Are you feeling better this morning?" she asked.

"I – I – Teela, you look incredible," he said, his eyes glowing.

Heat rushed to her face and she didn't know what to say. Finally she managed to say, "Thanks." For a long time they just looked at each other, not speaking. She was realizing just how much she really did love him. When Marlena had used the word last night, Teela hadn't been prepared for it, but it had been the right word. She did love Adam, in ways she was only beginning now to understand.

* * *

Adam stared at Teela in utter astonishment when she entered the room. She was wearing a dress he thought he dimly remembered her wearing a few years back, before she started wearing her uniforms all the time. It was dark blue and it hugged her figure in ways it hadn't back then. She walked towards him like something out of a dream and sat down on the bed beside him.

He couldn't speak sensibly, and it seemed neither could she. After one very brief and somewhat halting exchange of words, they simply stared at each other. He couldn't imagine what she was seeing, but he was experiencing a profound realization that shook him to the roots of his soul.

Teela had been his sister, his friend, his rival, his critic, and his tormentor, but she had never before been a woman he . . . desired. His mouth went dry as panic filled him. She was beautiful and intelligent and . . . most important of all . . . she didn't care that he had a secret that he wouldn't – couldn't – tell her.

If it could be believed. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that he had just opened himself up to an entirely new level of hurt and betrayal.

Teela reached out and touched his cheek with her hand. "Have you eaten?" she asked. The prosaic question broke him out of his trance of panic and longing.

"I had breakfast," he said. "Sausage, eggs and toast."

"Oh," she said. "I haven't. I came straight here after I got up."

Now that they were talking he found he could breathe normally again. She was still utterly breathtaking, but he could think about more than her presence now. "I could have some sent for," he said. When she nodded, he did so.

They sat quietly for a few moments, and then she said, "Would you believe I have to go shopping?"

"What?" Desperately seeking some way not to sound like an utter moron, he fell back on his old standby, flippancy. "Have you run out of sharp, pointy things?" he asked.

She jabbed him in the ribs with her finger. "No, I just discovered that I have nothing that fits besides my uniforms. This is the closest thing to fitting, and it used to be baggy."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Really? I just assumed you ran out of clean uniforms and put on the first thing that came to hand," he said.

She laughed. "Oh yes, and the laundry's receiving a very large basket from me today. No, I just figured that since I was off duty, I didn't need to go about in uniform. I have noticed that, unlike my father, most of the soldiers do wear ordinary clothes from time to time."

"Yes, well, your father is one of a kind," he said. She looked at him oddly, and he realized that his tone had been a little dryer than the general tenor of the conversation called for. "But I must say, you look absolutely gorgeous."

"Do I usually look less gorgeous?" she asked, and Adam found himself desperately wondering what was the right answer. Did she want to hear that she looked unusually good today, or would she be irritated if he suggested that she looked less lovely in her usual garb?

"I've always thought you were beautiful," he said.

"Oh," she said, and he couldn't tell if he'd pleased her or not. "Well, I must look different somehow, because the medic didn't recognize me. He wasn't going to let me in."

Adam smiled and reached up a hand, greatly daring, to her cheek. "You do look different, and I'm not sure what it is. It's not the clothing, or even your hair."

She flushed and took his hand, not letting go. "Well, in any case, I think I need a few more off duty outfits, so I'm going to have to go shopping."

"It's too bad I can't go with you," Adam said. "That sounds like fun."

"Well, I don't plan on going today," she said. "Today I planned to spend as much time with an old friend as he would let me."

He smiled and they started talking about unimportant matters that ranged from guard rosters to ladies' fashions. Felinar stood by quietly, as if he were one with the wall. Teela had been there for nearly two hours when there was a knock at the door. Felinar went to open it.

Adam's father came in with a tired smile. He'd been in first thing in the morning to check on Adam, but he hadn't stayed long because a diplomatic emergency had developed between the emissary from the Caligars and the emissary from the Spalians. Adam was frankly surprised to see him so early. He wouldn't have expected any negotiations involving those two stubborn enemies to take less than half a day.

Teela, contrary to Adam's expectations, did not efface herself before the king and let him take over. She greeted him politely, but Adam got the feeling that she was concealing some deep emotional reaction to him.

"How are you, Adam?" his father asked.

Adam looked up at him, smiling. "I'm fine. How did you manage to calm the Caligars and Spalians down so quickly?"

"They were already halfway to a settlement of their differences when I arrived. I think Duncan had been talking to them. They both asked after you."

Adam grimaced and he felt Teela's hand tighten on his in an attempt to comfort him. "What did you tell them?" he asked

"That you were recovering. They asked me to convey their best wishes." The king walked around the bed and sat down on the other side. "I told them that you would be appreciative. I'm glad to see you smiling." Adam had no idea what to say to that, but his father didn't give him time to say anything. "Has Dorgan been in to see you yet?" he asked.

Adam nodded. "This morning. He told me that I should stay in bed and not make my guard have to call him."

"And have you?"

Rolling his eyes, Adam nodded. "Yes, Father, I've stayed in bed. It's going to drive me up the wall, but I have stayed in bed."

"Well, I've got something I'd like you to do for me," the king said. "If you feel up to it."

More than a little startled, he looked up at his father. "Something you want me to do? I thought I wasn't allowed to do anything."

The king nodded. "Dorgan has cleared this, though," he said. "I didn't think you'd cope with sitting here too much longer doing nothing."

The door opened and a medic came in. He slipped between Teela and the wall at the head of Adam's bed. "If you don't mind, Prince Adam, I'll need your arm." For the fourth time since he'd awoken, Adam let the man take his blood pressure. The medic studied the little gauge on his device, jotted down a note and left again. Adam assumed, since the man didn't say anything, that there was no good news.

All three of them were silent for a moment, then Teela cleared her throat. "Just what is it you want Adam to do, your highness?" she asked. From her tone, Adam had a strange feeling that Dorgan wasn't the only one expecting to approve Adam's assignments.

That tone wasn't lost on his father, who raised an eyebrow, but, surprisingly, didn't object. "I need some precedents looked up. There's a couple of cases that have been dangling for awhile now because no one has had the time to look through the histories and find the relevant precedents."

"I can't go to the library, Father," Adam said.

"I know, but I can have the books brought to you." His father looked at him earnestly. "Again, only if you feel up to it."

"I think I can manage to look through some books," Adam said. "Have someone bring them around."

"I will," Randor said, smiling. "Along with the pending cases." He didn't stand up immediately, though, as Adam expected he would. "Perhaps you'd like to play a game of chess or two with me, after lunch."

Blinking, Adam nodded. "Sure, Father, if you want." _What is he up to?_ he wondered.

"I thought I might go shopping this afternoon," Teela said. "So that will work out perfectly." The smile she turned on the king seemed to have a bit of an edge to it.

Adam's father took the hint and got up. "I'll see you just after lunch, then, son," he said.

"Right," Adam said and watched his father leave. "Why isn't he angry with me?" he muttered. "Or, maybe more accurately, when's he going to be angry with me?"

"He's worried about you," Teela said. "We all are."

"I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle." He grinned at her. "You had better go shopping this afternoon, though. Don't forget, you're coming with me tonight to see Genice's sister play. You'd best make sure you have something appropriate to wear."

Teela nodded. "I don't know how you know so much about all the servants and the guards. When do you find the time to talk to everyone, and how do you keep it all straight?"

"I don't know," Adam said. "I just do."

They went on talking until Adam's parents came in with lunch. Since Adam was now in the presence of three others, Felinar quietly stepped outside to give them privacy. Adam wondered what all the rules they had were.

The four of them ate, and then Teela stood up. "Your highness?" she said to the queen. "Could I ask your advice on some matters regarding my wardrobe?"

"Of course, dear," Adam's mother said. Giving him a kiss, she went out with Teela.

Adam turned back to his father, who was studying his hands with some attention. A servant was clearing away the residue of lunch, and Adam fidgeted with his bedclothes until they brought in the chessboard and set it up beside Adam's bed. They stared to play, which was a relief, because it gave them something to talk about. They discussed previous games, other games they enjoyed. It was very odd. Adam hadn't spent this much time with his father in years, certainly not one on one. The last time his father had made any effort to spend time with him was when he'd tried to teach him to sharpen swords. Adam had been forced by circumstances to run out on him then, and he hadn't tried again.

It was a shame, because Adam had actually been enjoying it, but the role Adam was forced to play hadn't allowed him to seek the interaction out. His secret made building close relationships impossible, because he couldn't count on being available when a friend might need him. Or a father.

The game lasted a long time. Randor was a canny player, and despite the fact that Adam eliminated much of his king's support structure early in the game, his father managed to drag out the inevitable conclusion by a series of blocking maneuvers and surprising strikes that took out some of Adam's key pieces. Eventually, though, Adam's father was forced to conceded defeat.

"You're a better player than you were when last we played," Randor said.

"I've been playing with Roboto and Man-E-Faces," Adam replied. "Playing with and observing those two will improve your game if you can get used to always losing anyway."

"I suppose that's true," the king said, smiling. "You do seem to get on well with all of the masters."

Adam shrugged. "They're easy to get along with," he replied, wondering what the point of his father's observation was. "There's a camaraderie among them that makes spending time with them very pleasant. Even the ones who aren't sure they like each other much rely on each other."

His father nodded. "That's the way a good unit should work. Everyone pulling together. Good leadership helps."

"Duncan is –"

"No, I wasn't thinking of Duncan. I was thinking of He-Man."

"I'm sure He-Man doesn't view himself as the leader of the masters," Adam said, feeling rather startled and uneasy to be discussing his alter ego with his father. "For one thing, he's seldom there. I'd think leadership would require more consistent contact."

"I know, but he leads by example. He's saved our enemies from death more than once, merely because death is the ultimate enemy. He is truly a great man."

Adam sighed. "I know, I'll never live up to him."

His father snorted. "Who could? If I'd had Skeletor clinging to a mountainside at my feet, I don't think I could have saved him for anything, despite the fact that it was the right thing to do. I have too much vengeance in my heart. He-Man is a far better man than I am."

_Not always,_ Adam thought, then shook his head to banish the thought of his own misdeeds. "I know He-Man wasn't sure he did the right thing that day," Adam said. "He feels responsible for the evil Skeletor has done since then."

"I hope you told him that he shouldn't feel that way," Randor replied. "I didn't know you'd spoken with him."

Adam shrugged. "Once or twice," he said in what he hoped sounded like an off-handed tone. _Stupid, Adam, stupid!_ "I don't know that I helped him much."

"We're fortunate to have him." Adam's father started resetting the board. "I've often wished I knew more about him, but he vanishes so quickly after each battle that it's difficult to get a chance to talk to him." His father paused, the game re set, and gestured for Adam to make the first move. He did, and while the king considered his response, he said, "You've spoken with him, do you know where he goes when he leaves?"

Mouth dry with apprehension. Why did his father want to ask questions like this now? "I never thought it was my place to ask. He's a very private man, Father."

"I often feel we don't offer him enough gratitude for what he does for us, but I have a feeling that trying would only lead to embarrassment."

Adam nodded fervently. "I wouldn't, if I were you. He does what he does because he couldn't do anything else. Gratitude is unnecessary."

"Well, he may feel that way, but I don't," Adam's father said. "But it would be a poor repayment for all the help he's given us to embarrass him in public. Perhaps, next time you see him, you could just tell him how I feel."

"Of course, Father." This conversation was surreal. He looked down at the board. "I forecast that you will lose in six moves," he said.

"How so?"

Adam twisted his lips into a grin. "That would be telling."

Six moves later, his father conceded and then looked up. "How did you know?"

"I know you, and I was predicting the moves you would make based on what you'd already done. It wouldn't work every time, it largely depends on what moves you've already made in a game. Chess is really about backing the other guy into a corner he can't find his way out of."

"Yes," Randor said, "I suppose you're right."

"Whereas diplomacy is the art of keeping everyone out of corners so they feel safe."

His father nodded. "Or making sure that the only ways out of the corner are ones you'll find acceptable."

Adam nodded. "True enough. He-Man's lucky, in a way, he only has to deal with the clean-cut issues rather than the everyday stickiness that is politics."

His father looked at him oddly. "I didn't think you were paying that much attention."

Adam gave him a sour look. "There are are fifty-three unattached ladies of marriageable age at court right now. All but four or five of them think they should have as much of a chance of catching me as any of the others. They each have parents, siblings and other relatives that have their own agendas. Believe me, Father, I understand politics. It's a very tricky dance paying just enough attention to each of them that no one is offended."

"I vaguely remember something of the sort when I was first king," his father said. "But I was so busy figuring out how to do my job that I didn't really notice, and since I'd already proposed to your mother, none of them had the slightest chance to begin with."

"If I know courtiers, and I do," Adam said, "they probably expected that you'd set your little country girl aside and choose from among them."

"They didn't know me," his father said.

"That must have alarmed them all. An unknown quantity . . . they try so hard to quantify everyone, to put people into little predictable boxes."

"So what do you do?"

"I carefully calculate what's expected of me in any given situation and give each lady just the right amount of my attention so that she doesn't feel slighted, but not so much that she can possibly conceive that I've singled her out for favor. It's left me with a reputation as a capricious flirt, but I'm also not betrothed. Nor have I been caught by any of the dragons."

* * *

Randor was astonished. He'd never heard Adam speak so frankly of what his life was like at court. To his shame, he'd never asked either, assuming that problems would be self-evident. Growing up as the son of a king at court had to be very different from growing up the son of a military captain at his grandfather's farm. He'd watched his son wander from group to group, flirting and teasing and generally being the life of the party, but he'd never considered that there might be a reason behind it other than pure mischief. "Dragons?" he repeated.

"There are a couple of older ladies, one of them described herself to me as 'past breeding age,' who collect handsome young men the way a rake collects young girls."

"You must be joking!" Randor spluttered but his son just gave him a look of amused condescension.

"Not hardly. The first time one of them approached me was when I was fifteen. My innocence saved me then, because I could not for the life of me fathom what it was she wanted. By the time the other one gave it a shot, I had realized what was up and was able to fend off her attentions with – if not ease, then with charm."

"You've had older ladies trying to seduce you?" Randor asked. "Seriously?"

"I thought you knew," Adam said. "I think Mother's aware of their activities, though I don't think she knows that either of them have tried to snare me."

"Why do you keep referring to it as if they were hunting?"

Adam shrugged. "Well, Father, you were a soldier, and I've heard some of the soldiers talking. There's a certain mentality that seems to enjoy keeping count. Since these ladies are widows and aren't likely to come up with certain . . ." He cleared his throat self-consciously, blushing slightly. "Certain consequences, they have a freedom that they are taking advantage of." Adam snorted. "Some of the young men are taking advantage of it, too. I just . . . I didn't think it would be proper for me to take them up on it, and I find it a little disturbing that a woman of fifty would want to take a fifteen-year-old to her bed. I have a feeling, though, that she was merely trying to catch me before her friend thought of it."

Randor shook his head, stunned. "I had no idea. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Adam shrugged again, seeming uneasy. "By the time I understood what was happening, I could handle it on my own, and besides, I wasn't sure how you'd react. At any rate, now that I'm an adult they're fairly harmless." His son snorted. "They're a great deal more harmless than the men who play at the same game."

"How so?" Randor asked.

Adam flushed. "The lack of . . . um . . . consequences."

Randor nodded hastily. "I see, I see." Adam laughed and there was a hint of self-mockery in his tone. "What's funny?" the king asked.

"Us," Adam said wryly. "Our reluctance to speak certain words aloud makes us sound like a pair of schoolboys, rather than a man and his allegedly grown up son."

Randor chuckled. "That's certainly true. Your mother would be laughing at us."

"Well, then, let's not tell her," Adam said.

The king nodded conspiratorially. "I agree." There was a pause, then Randor said, "Another game?"

This game he won, though not without heavy losses. Periodically, a medic would come in and check Adam's blood pressure, then go back about his business. Randor and Adam ignored him as best they could, though the king couldn't help wondering if there was any sign of improvement. Would the medic tell them, or would he tell Dorgan and allow the healer to pass the information along in his own way?

After the fourth game, Adam tilted his head. "Don't you have things you should be doing? Urgent tasks?"

Randor shook his head. "I can't think of anything that matters more to me at this moment than spending time with you, Adam."

His son looked at him, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Randor briskly set the board up again, but Adam shook his head, eyes full of anxiety and confusion. "Father, forgive me for being blunt, but you haven't spent this much time alone with me since I was a boy, and in the last few years nearly all you've had to say to me has been criticism." Adam leaned closer, his expression full of puzzlement. "Did my attempting suicide make so much difference to you?"

Randor bit his lip and reached out, taking Adam's hand. The boy stiffened but didn't pull away. "It opened my eyes, I think, to what I was doing to you. I still don't really understand, but I want to hear what's distressing you. I want to help you in any way I can."

It was alarming, as Marlena said, how quickly Adam's moods could change. His expression went from perplexity to near-despair to neutral affability in the space of three breaths. If Randor hadn't been watching him closely, he would have missed it. When Adam spoke, his voice trembled very slightly on the first few words, suggesting that the pleasant expression he wore was the thinnest of veneers. "Thank you, Father. I believe you mean that, but there's no way you can help me."

"Adam, how can you know that?" Randor asked. "If you could just tell me what troubles you, I might be able to help in ways that you couldn't guess."

Adam closed his eyes. "It's not that easy, Father. I wish it were."

Randor opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened before he could speak. Adam turned to the person who had just come in, Dorgan, with apparent relief. Randor resolved to be more subtle about his questions in the future.

"Well, Prince Adam, I would like to be able to report that your blood pressure is declining, but I can't. It appears to be holding steady, so I'm afraid I will have to adjust the dosage on the medication I'm giving you." He held out a little cup which Adam took. Two green pills lay inside and Adam took them, making a face.

"No improvement at all?" Randor asked while Adam was taking his medicine.

"Unfortunately, no," Dorgan said.

"This won't interfere with my going to the Leaping Boar tonight, will it?" Adam asked anxiously. "That would be more stressful than going, I would think."

"I'm really not sure it's a good idea," Dorgan said slowly.

"Please, Dorgan, how much stress can there be going to a tavern and listening to a musician? I'd think that would fall under the category of rest and recreation."

"Perhaps," Dorgan said. "Randor?"

"Well, he won't be alone by any means. Teela, Genice, Mekanek and Nalineph will be with him, and there will be other guards from the palace present. I think he should be safe enough, even if he has problems."

"Well, I'm not likely to attempt suicide in a crowd," Adam said irritably.

"I didn't think you were," Randor protested. "I was concerned about your health."

"I'm just concerned about that spike in your blood pressure," Dorgan said. "I didn't see any source of stress, so I'm not sure why it happened."

"There was a source of stress, alright," Adam said. They both turned and looked at him. "Not one I can explain, but it was there. Besides," he went on blithely, nearly stopping his father's heart, "it's happened before, and there's usually a fairly long break in between incidents."

Randor stared in blank astonishment. _It's happened before? And he never said anything?_

Dorgan was not stunned into speechlessness. "What?" he demanded. "When? What were the circumstances?"

Adam shrugged. "Hard to explain, really, but it always follows high stress or activity. This is just the first time it's happened in front of anybody."

"Is that why you've been avoiding your physical?" Dorgan asked.

"Somewhat," Adam admitted. "I just – I didn't think there was anything that could be done about it and didn't want people fussing."

Randor found his voice at last. "You didn't want people fussing?" He shook his head. "Adam, we're your parents, you need to tell us when things like this happen!"

"How long has this been going on?" Dorgan asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Six months, seven. No more than nine."

That rendered both the other men silent. Randor didn't know what Dorgan was thinking, but he knew that Marlena was going to be devastated. Adam had been concealing a potentially serious medical problem from everyone for as long as nine months.

"How could you keep something like that hidden?" Dorgan asked in an appalled voice. "Adam, don't you understand that it could have been a sign of a serious illness?"

"I didn't really think it had anything to do with my health," Adam said. "I just – it's impossible to explain."

Randor ran his hands back through his hair. "If you have any kind of physical reaction that isn't obviously normal, you should bring it to me, your mother or Dorgan. Or Duncan. Someone."

"Is there anything else you think I might be interested in knowing, Prince Adam?" the healer asked acerbically.

Adam shook his head. "That's the only thing I hadn't mentioned to anyone. I don't have any other physical problems. That's part of what convinced me that it couldn't be a symptom of anything more serious."

"Sometimes symptoms do show up in isolation, Adam," Dorgan said. "And you need to tell me when that happens so we can look for a cause."

"Well, now you know. But I'm serious, it never happens two days in a row, even if there's the same kind of stimulus two days in a row. I should be safe enough from that tonight."

"We're telling people that you're ill, Adam. It would look very odd for you to go to a tavern when you're feeling ill."

"Did you give them a specific illness?" Adam asked.

"No, but –"

"I'm relaxing. We can have Teela be very solicitous and people will think I'm being cosseted. And at the moment, I'm beyond caring overmuch what people think."

_And perhaps it's time to get the people thinking of Teela and Adam together in a slightly different configuration than they have previously,_ Randor thought slyly. "I have no objection. Dorgan?"

The healer gave him a sour look, and said, "All right, but I have a condition." Adam looked warily at the old man. "You will go in a float chair."

"A float chair!" Adam looked outraged. "I'm not that much of an invalid." The medic came in to take Adam's blood pressure at that moment and Adam glared up at Dorgan. "I suppose you're going to want to send someone along to take my blood pressure every five minutes, too."

"No, though I don't want you gone above an hour and a half."

Adam shook his head, and his tone was cajoling. "A float chair? It's –"

"I am not risking your health for the sake of music or your ego. If a float chair is too embarrassing, you will simply have to accept that you can't go."

Knowing Dorgan as he did, Randor was certain that he had some very good reason for insisting on a float chair so when Adam turned pleading eyes on him, he just shook his head and looked toward Dorgan. The medic finished and jotted down his note. Dorgan held a hand out for the pad on which all the blood pressure information had been written.

"You see, Adam, just that little outburst was enough to raise your pressure a smidge. You need rest for the moment. I think this is little enough to ask for."

Heaving a deep sigh, Adam nodded his acquiescence.

"In fact, in view of this little spike, I'm really not sure you should go at all. I was dubious about it to begin –"

"Dorgan!" Adam sat up straight. "You said that I could a moment ago, and were making all sorts of ridiculous stipulations."

"That was before your blood pressure rose, young man," Dorgan said. "It had been holding steady, but if a little argument elevates it, I don't want you away from the infirmary." He gestured to the medic, who was waiting for the pad. "Take another measurement, if you would."

Adam was turning red with anger, but he wasn't speaking. Randor was taken aback by the boy's furious response. After a moment, Adam managed to say, "I can't back out now, it's not fair to Genice or her sister."

"I'm sure they will understand," Dorgan replied. He was peering over the medic's shoulder at the dials on the blood pressure monitor. "Just as I feared. Adam, you must calm down, you're not doing yourself any good."

Adam's eyes widened with annoyance, and for a moment Randor was afraid he was going to explode. Then he seemed to force the emotional response down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

A thought struck Randor. "Adam," he said, "isn't the whole point of this to help Genice's sister with her career in music?" His son nodded. "Well, then, why not invite her here to play for you at the palace? That would be even more help to her reputation than your showing up at the tavern would be. After all, you might have merely been thirsty. You couldn't send for her on accident."

Adam opened his mouth, clearly prepared to offer some kind of objection, but then he stopped, looking thoughtful. "That would be better, wouldn't it?" he said. "I never even thought of that."

"So why don't I send for Genice and you can tell her," Randor said. "I doubt very much that you'd agree to letting me tell her." The expression on Adam's face was a very clear no.

Genice was duly sent for, and her reaction was everything Randor could want. She chastised him for sending for her when a note or message would have sufficed and insisted that she would never expect him to rise from his sickbed to see her sister sing.

Adam sighed and tolerated the admonishments until she wound down a bit. Then he said, "But I would still really like to hear your sister's music. Would you be so kind as to extend my invitation for her to come play for me here at the palace on the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon? It should be a small party, and very informal."

The servant was struck speechless for a moment, and then she began to bob excited curtsies. "Of course, your highness," she said. "I'm certain she'll be thrilled."

Randor got her to stop babbling her thanks and to go back to her work before Adam could turn too brilliant a scarlet.

"Well," Dorgan said, "That solves that problem. Now, Adam, we're going to have to do something to help you with your temper."

Adam grimaced. "I don't know what's come over me," he said. "I'm not usually this volatile."

"It's the stress, my boy. That doesn't mean you can't control it, but right now, too much control might be worse than the explosion."

"Because repressing it will send my blood pressure soaring?" Adam asked.

"Exactly. I still haven't found you a counselor yet, but I will. In the meantime, you might try confiding in someone here."

Adam just looked away and Dorgan dropped the subject.

"This room needs some color about it," Randor said abruptly. "If Adam's going to be staying here, it can't just have barren walls with nothing to liven it up."

"I have been thinking about that," Dorgan said. "I'm just not sure what we can safely use. I had the artwork removed because there were too many possible ways to break them into pieces to use as a weapon."

"There has to be some –"

"Tapestries," Adam said. "Mother has some in a storage room in the attic. If I have to spend another day looking at these incredibly boring walls, I will go nuts."

"That seems fair," Dorgan said. "I'll discuss with your mother what we need to do to get them hung."

Adam nodded, sitting back. Then he sat bolt upright again. "Teela's out right now buying a dress to go to the tavern in. I hope she's not annoyed that we're not going." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Though she could go. There's nothing stopping her."

"Except her undoubted desire to spend the evening with you," Randor said.

"She'll get bored soon enough," Adam said with certainty.

Randor looked down at his son. "I really don't think that's the case, Adam," he said. The prince shrugged and didn't respond. "She genuinely cares about you."

Dorgan nodded to them both and left, followed by the medic. Adam was studying his hands. "She says she cares," he said. "But how am I to know how long that will last? I did think she was my best friend not so long ago, and then things changed. Now they've changed again, and I don't know where I stand."

Randor sat down and rested his hand on Cringer's head. "I'd say you stand very close to that young woman's heart."

"People can love each other and still not get along," Adam said, not looking at his father. Randor flushed, not sure what to say. "Love doesn't guarantee understanding and happiness except in stories, and my life's no storybook, for all its fantastical elements." The prince's tone was dry and laden with bitter irony.

"Fantastical elements?" Randor repeated, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?"

Adam flushed and bit his lip. "Well, there's Orko," he said. "He's a pretty fantastical creature."

This explanation didn't cover either his tone in the original statement, or the flush . . . that seemed to hint at something else. Randor was about to follow up on this curious assertion when the door opened to admit his wife and Teela, who looked very different from the business-like captain of the guard he knew so well.

Adam's eyes were practically popping out of his head. Teela wore a sleeveless gown of heavy silk in a green that exactly matched her eyes, which were sparkling now with mischief. The edges around the oval neckline and the hem were decorated with trim of dark green embroidered with gold. She wore a pair of armlets on her upper arms, and her hair was caught back by a gold clip of some sort, with the rest of it falling in loose waves nearly to the floor. There was a belt of gold and green cord around her hips, with a velvet pouch dangling from one side.

She looked incredibly regal and very grown up in a way that her uniform didn't achieve. He glanced at Marlena, wondering if this was deliberate. He felt very much as if he were looking at Princess Teela, the royal daughter-in-law.

Adam finally found his tongue. "We're not going!" he said in devastated tones.

Teela's eyes crinkled up with dismay. "What? Why not?"

Adam dropped disconsolately. "I had another blood pressure spike."

Her eyes widened and she rushed to the side of the bed, sitting down and taking his hand. "What? No, we're not going. Are you all right?"

"Dorgan's increased the dose on the blood pressure medication," Adam explained, but before Randor could listen further, Marlena came to his side.

"Randor, what happened?"

He took her arm and drew them apart from Teela and Adam. "Dorgan and Adam had a disagreement about what conditions Adam would have to meet to go down to the tavern. During the discussion – which got rather heated – Adam's blood pressure rose, and continued to rise as Adam remained upset. Dorgan absolutely forbade the trip, which I had to agree with."

Marlena nodded, though she looked worried. "He was looking forward to it."

"Well, we're going to have the girl come play for him here, the day after tomorrow," Randor said. That will have the twin effects of keeping him here and advancing the girl's career."

"Good." She looked at the pair on the bed. "What do you think of the gown?"

"It's incredible," he said. "Are you matchmaking?"

"Do I need to? The two of them are doing it all on their own. I think it may take some time for him to truly come to trust her again, but I don't doubt that it will happen."

Randor grinned. "I want to see her father's face when he sees her wearing that," he said.

"You are a cruel man," Marlena said.

"I get the feeling he has misgivings about a relationship between them. I'm going to have to talk to him."

Marlena nodded, watching their son with Teela. She was fussing at him, and Randor began to wonder if she was going to change now. Would she be less the assertive woman of the guard? He found he didn't like the idea. There was no reason why she would have to be different as the princess. Of course, she wasn't being at all prissy as she bossed him around.

"You _do_ need another pillow. You need to be elevated."

Adam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Teela," he growled. "I don't need another pillow."

"You're wrong. Now just sit forward and let's get you into a better position –"

"Teela, I'm fine!" She ignored him. "It's my body," he announced.

"Yes, but you're mine!" she replied sharply. They both stopped abruptly, and color rushed to both their faces. There was an odd mixture of embarrassment and acknowledgement in both as well, and Randor took a deep breath.

"I'll go see Duncan now," he said.

"That's an excellent notion," Marlena replied. "I'll stay here as chaperone."

They were neither speaking to nor looking at each other when he left, but the way they held themselves bespoke a definite, strong awareness of each other.

Allowing Cringer to slip out with him, Randor shut the door and pulled out his comlink. "Duncan, where are you?"

"In your office, sire. I was just finishing up the last of the business."

"Stay there, I'll join you in a few moments." He headed toward the office, not sure at all how this conversation was going to go, but certain that it would be uncomfortable.

* * *

Duncan switched off his comlink and settled it back in its holster on his belt. What did Randor want to talk to him about? It almost had to concern Adam, but what? Had the prince had another fainting spell? A more serious attack?

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and finished the last of the work that Jenkins insisted wouldn't wait. Fortunately, there were no major crises brewing in the kingdom at the moment. He closed the files and handed them to Jenkins, rising from the king's chair to await his friend's arrival.

Randor came in seeming very tense. He didn't immediately tell him what was going on, but bade Duncan to sit down as he perched thoughtfully on the edge of his desk. His brows knit, he seemed to be considering his words with care. Duncan's foreboding grew.

"Is Adam all right?" he demanded suddenly, when the waiting grew too much for his stretched patience.

Randor blinked. "He had a minor spike in his blood pressure today, brought on by a disagreement with Dorgan, but other than that, he's unchanged."

Duncan sighed his relief. "Well, then what is it? You've got me working myself into a tizzy."

"I see that," the king said, smiling sympathetically. "I'm sorry. It's actually good news. Or, at least I think it's good news. I'm not sure what you'll think."

Duncan grit his teeth. "Randor, would you tell me what is going on? This is not a time to play guessing games."

"Sorry, I didn't mean . . ." His friend shook his head. "I'm sure you've noticed the . . . well, the chemistry that seems to be developing between Adam and Teela over the last day or so?" Duncan nodded. He didn't want to think about this. He certainly didn't want to talk about this with Randor, not before he'd had a chance to consult the Sorceress. "Well, she's actually made a fairly clear statement as regards her intentions, and I thought we'd better talk about it since your reaction to their behavior yesterday was somewhat extreme."

Duncan stared, caught by surprise. "What do you mean, a clear statement of her intentions?"

"She informed him, her words 'You're mine.' I'd say that's less than subtle."

Dropping his head into his hands, Duncan thought desperately, trying to think of some way to explain to his friend that Teela couldn't marry his son without it sounding as if it were the son he objected to. "Randor, it's not that easy," he started.

"What's not that easy?"

"Teela . . . her decisions aren't that simple. There's more at stake than . . ." He shook his head. He was getting perilously close to information he couldn't reveal.

"More at stake than what? Than the happiness of our children? I don't understand."

Duncan was searching for something safe to say when he heard an unexpected voice in his head. _"Once, long ago, Duncan, I told you that she _might_ have to be the Sorceress of Grayskull one day. There are two possible paths her future can take. Let us see which she chooses."_

"_I don't understand,"_ he said, utterly baffled.

"_Duncan, her path needn't be mine, and if she can take another, I would be glad of it."_ There was a pause. _"Any mother would,"_ she added, and then her presence was gone from his mind.

He nodded. "You're right, Randor," he said, startling his friend, who seemed to be about to embark on some long, no doubt eloquent speech. "I'm a little uneasy about this, but if it's what Teela wants . . ."

Randor put a hand on his shoulder. "What makes you so concerned? Surely you don't object to Adam?"

Duncan shook his head. "Of course not, Randor. I'm just not sure she'd be happy as queen. It's a very tense and demanding job, not to mention it making her rather a big target."

"You mean it would put her in the same position as my son?" Randor asked dryly.

"Well, yes, damn it!" Duncan grimaced. "Putting it frankly, Adam hasn't got a choice. Teela has."

Randor crossed his arms, and though the look he gave Duncan was not without sympathy, he said, "Well, it appears that she's making it."

"Then I will support them both, whatever comes," Duncan said. _Queen or Sorceress? Which is better?_

"_I'll give you a hint,"_ said the Sorceress abruptly in his mind, _"which one will give you grandchildren?"_ Duncan blinked. He hadn't thought of it in quite that light. _"Idiot."_

"That's all anyone can ask, Duncan," Randor said, "though I hope you'll give the match more than your lukewarm 'support.'"

Duncan smiled at his king. "Seeing Adam and Teela happy will be enough to bring me around, I should imagine."


	15. Agonies & Uncertainties

**Chapter 15 – Agonies & Uncertainties**

When Raon came to relieve Nalineph, he was surprised to see him standing outside the door. "Why are you out here?" he asked.

"Both the queen and Captain Teela are in with him," the other guardsman said. "If either of them leaves, I have been instructed to go in, but otherwise we're to give him some privacy."

Raon nodded and looked at the door. "Have you been in there with him much today?"

"Nope. The king was with him when I came on duty, and then Captain Teela came with the queen and the king left. He hasn't needed me in with him at all, except to do his business." The guardsman flushed and Raon sympathized. Having to accompany Adam to the privy was very embarrassing, though Adam was a good sport about it.

"Well, I'll relieve you, then, and see you tomorrow around this time."

Nalineph nodded, they saluted each other, and Nalineph left the infirmary. Raon put his back to the door and stood at attention, ignoring the curious looks he got from passers-by. After awhile, the door opened and he turned. His eyes flew wide at the sight of Teela. He'd never seen her in such a gorgeous dress before, and he hadn't seen her in any dress at all for a good few years.

"Well, it looks like you decided to grow up," he said, smiling at her. "It suits you."

She flushed and pulled the door behind her almost closed. "Do you really think so?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, you look haggish," he said ironically.

"No, seriously, Raon, do I look okay?"

She seemed genuinely concerned and he grinned. "Seriously, you look wonderful. Very pretty." She relaxed a bit, and he realized what must be going on. "So, who is he?" he asked. "Who is it you want to impress?"

Teela flushed again, and he had to admit, it livened up her complexion enormously. "Shut up," she said, but her tone was friendly. "Adam needs you."

He followed her into the room, and when he saw the way Adam looked at her, the way she looked at him, and the way the queen was looking at them both, he knew the answer to his question. He stood stolidly in the privy, contemplating that a love affair might help keep Adam from suicide, but only if it went well. Teela had been known to be quite harsh with the prince. Resolutely, he turned his thoughts aside, determined to think positive.

Adam washed his hands, and Raon was about to open the privy door when the prince caught his arm.

"I need just a minute," he said.

"Are you okay?" Raon asked. Adam was leaning against the counter and he seemed a little uneasy.

The prince nodded. "If you mean my health, yes, I'm fine. I don't think I'm having any kind of blood pressure issue, anyway. I just don't know how to take what . . . did you see her?"

Raon raised his eyebrows. "You mean Teela, I suppose, since your mother looked much the same as she always does."

"Elders, yes! Teela, she – I –" He shook his head. "She –" He laughed. "She's got me so off balance I can't finish a sentence."

"Welcome to the wonderful world of women," Raon said. "What did she do that's got you so off balance?"

"Well, for starters, that dress. I never expected anything – she looks like a queen."

"It was a surprise," Raon said, wondering if that comparison was apt. Was Teela angling . . . not likely. She was painfully straightforward, that girl. Not remotely manipulative.

"My mother took her to give her advice on her wardrobe," Adam said, and Raon nodded.

"Well, that would explain why she looks like a queen," he said. "She's got a queen telling her what to wear."

Adam knit his eyebrows. "I hadn't thought about it that way. But the dress is only one thing. She – she's being very proprietary. What do I do?"

"Do you object?"

"Yes," Adam said. "And no. I don't know." He shrugged. "Sometimes?"

"Teela can be a bit bossy," Raon said and Adam nodded fervently. "I suspect that you had best pick your battles, my friend."

"As in, she's going to be bossy whatever I do, so I'd better put my foot down where it matters and ignore the rest?"

"Well, maybe not ignore . . ." Raon said, grinning mischievously.

Adam chuckled. "True. Ignoring Teela got buckets of water dumped over our heads at least once in the past."

"And I'll wager she wields a mean bucket these days."

Adam looked over at the door. "They'll be wondering if I fell in."

"Well, I'll be here all night," Raon said. "We can talk later."

"Then I'd better go back out. I think I'm fortified."

Raon followed his prince out of the privy and Teela fussed him into bed as the guard walked out of the room.

Things were getting complicated in more than a few ways, Raon reflected. But his job, together with Felinar and Nalineph, was to be Adam's steadying anchor, to be there for him, sort of like a trio of older brothers.

He wondered if Adam was prepared for the sudden acquisition of older siblings. He rather thought not.

* * *

Teela received a call on her comlink. Adam watched as she pulled it out of her pouch and activated it, stepping away from the bed. The silk of her gown traced her curves. They'd been reminiscing about things that had happened before Skeletor came; he liked thinking about that time. The past three years had been a never-ending war. Even when there was peace in Eternia, there were often problems elsewhere that He-Man was needed for.

He shook his head. Would this new understanding of Teela's last past the first time he fled a battle? He wouldn't be sure he could believe it until that happened, and he wasn't going to be permitted to find that out until everyone was satisfied that he wasn't going to fall on the power sword if he got hold of it.

His mother had been sitting on the other side of the room, now she got up and came to the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Not bad," Adam said. "Maybe a little bewildered."

She smiled sympathetically at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. "That will pass."

Adam glanced over at Teela who was turning off her comlink. "I very much doubt it," he said.

Teela walked back over to the bed and sat down, taking his hand. His mother drifted away a bit. "My father wants to have dinner with me tonight, Adam. I'll see you in the morning before my shift."

He smiled up at her. "See you in the morning."

She bent close, brushed her lips against his, and said, "I love you." Then she left the room quickly. Adam felt as if his mind had frozen. _Does she mean what it sounds like she means?_ he wondered in shock. _Does she love me . . ._ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Raon opened the door and sidled his way inside. Cringer slipped in beside him, and Adam realized that he hadn't noticed the great cat leave.

Cringer jumped onto the bed, nuzzled him briefly, then lay down on Adam's feet.

His mother sat down beside him with her embroidery. "I expect your father will be along soon," she said.

"You two should eat dinner with the court," he said, looking at her. "People will think I'm sicker than I am if you stay away a second night."

She knit her brows in concern. "Adam, I think we should stay with you. You need us."

Adam rolled his eyes. "The court will be babbling about the activity here yesterday – before too long, they'll have taken Ivan's heart problem and try to claim that it was a cover for surgery on me. You need to reassure them that I'm all right." _Besides, I need some time to absorb what just happened._

The door opened and his father came in. Cringer looked up and then rested his head on his paws, eyes closing. Adam was relieved. He was sure that he could persuade his father to go to dinner at court, and take his mother with him. Randor walked up and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You keeping calm?" he said hopefully.

Adam blinked, surprised by this as a greeting. "Calm is not the word I'd choose," he said, "but I'm not upset or angry if that's what you mean."

"Why not calm?" his father asked.

Adam shook his head, scratching Cringer's head. "Hard to explain. It's just – I –" Shaking his head, he gave up trying to find words. "It's hard to explain." He took a deep breath. "I really think you and Mother should go to dinner with the court tonight. People will start talking if you don't go two nights in a row."

"I don't give a fat damn what the people at court think," the king said firmly. "If I choose to have dinner with my son, they can just deal with it."

"You've always cared before," Adam said, stuttering slightly. He sat up straighter, feeling his pleasant bewilderment from Teela's visit begin to disintegrate. "I – I thought that was part of why you were always angry with me." He looked up in perplexity at his father, his heart thumping in his chest. "I thought you – you said it was a disgrace before your court to have a son who didn't live up to your example." Cringer leaned closer to him, licking his fingers.

His father's eyes flew wide. "Adam, I –" He shook his head. "Where did you hear that?"

"You were telling someone else," Adam said. To his self-disgust he found himself beginning to cry. "I overheard you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I don't know who you were speaking to."

"But that was the night –" The king sank into the chair by the bed, his face going as white as paper. "Elders, Adam, you weren't meant to hear that." There was a muffled sound of protest from his mother at that admission, which at least reassured Adam that his father hadn't been speaking to her.

Adam shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, hoping that would hide the tears coursing down his face. _At least he's not denying that he'd said any such thing._

Cringer started to curl up around him, but his father moved abruptly, wrapping his arms around Adam, pulling him close. His voice was ragged as he spoke. "I'm sorry, son," he said. "I'm so sorry!" He kept saying that, over and over again.

Adam pulled away. "Why? If you meant it, why are you sorry?"

"Because I'm a fool!" Randor said, his eyes streaming with tears. "I'm a fool and blind."

"But are you sorry you said it, or are you sorry I heard it?"

His father's jaw dropped. "Elders, Adam, what have I done to you?"

The door opened and the medic with the blood pressure monitor walked in. Adam thumped his head down onto his knees and stuck his arm out.

"Adam, son, I love you. I was being a jackass and an idiot, and I'm sorry."

"But I'm _not _living up to your example, am I?" Adam asked fiercely as the medic applied his monitor to Adam's arm. "That's not going to change. Nothing's going to change. Nothing's _ever _going to change."

"I'm going to change," his father said. "I've been unreasonable, unfair. I've expected things of you that you can't give."

Adam shook his head miserably. "Father, you don't understand." His voice was so thick with emotion that he wasn't sure they'd understand him. "I will never be able to live up to your expectations unless you sink them so low as to be embarrassing for both of us. There is no solution, no possible answer to the problem."

"That's not true!" his father exclaimed, catching hold of Adam's free hand, still clutched around his legs. "I will not accept that there is no solution."

The medic made a notation on his pad and left the room. Adam pulled his hand out of his father's. "There isn't! Don't you think I've tried to find one? I hate my life, I hate being who I am! And there's no way out."

The king shook his head and leaned forward, putting his hands on Adam's shoulders. "We'll find one, you and I. We'll work something out. I've been a wretch, but please, Adam, give me a chance to mend my ways." His face screwed up tightly. "I do love you, son."

"Then why does it take such an effort for you to say it?" Adam demanded. He couldn't easily pull away, so he looked away from his father's face.

"It doesn't," Randor said. "I love you, Adam. You're my son, and I love you."

Adam shook his head bitterly. "As I understand it, my being your son was never in dispute, just my worthiness."

"Your worthiness was never in dispute, Adam!" his father exclaimed. "Never!"

"You acted like you hated me!" The words felt as if they were being dragged out of him. "You acted like you despised the very sight of me."

His father pulled him into a tight hug. "I never felt that way, son. I've always loved you. Always."

"That doesn't help!" Adam wailed. "That doesn't make it better."

His mother suddenly spoke, sitting on the other side of the bed and put her hands comfortingly on his back. "It won't, right away. But it's a start."

Adam found himself weeping on his father's shoulder, with his father's sobs in his ear. His mother wrapped her arms around him from behind. They sat like that for a few moments, and then the door opened.

Dorgan cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, folks, I need to check on Adam. His blood pressure is up."

Both of his parents broke away from him abruptly to let Dorgan at him. The healer immediately picked up Adam's wrist to check his pulse. "What's going on?"

Adam sniffled and didn't respond. His father sat back down on the chair beside the bed looking utterly devastated, the tears still running down his cheeks. His mother took a deep breath and said, "It's rather difficult to explain."

"Well, Adam's in no condition to discuss it right now, I don't think," Dorgan said. A medic had come in after him with a small kit. The healer pulled out a hypodermic and said, "This will sting a little, Adam." He let out a hiss when the needle went in, and felt the cool substance entering his blood stream. He shivered slightly as Dorgan withdrew the syringe and set it aside. "That should help a little." He looked over at the king and pursed his lips. "It's time for dinner," he said.

Since, finally, no one was holding onto him, Adam rolled over on his side, his back to his father, and threw an arm around Cringer who had crawled up beside him. He couldn't stop crying, and he didn't want to be seen right now.

His father put a hand on his shoulder, saying, "Son, do you want me to stay?"

"I don't care," Adam said.

"Well, then I'll stay," he said, his voice still rough with emotion. "I don't think I should leave you in this state."

"Then I will have dinner sent in for all of us," Dorgan said.

Adam wasn't hungry, but there was no point in telling them so. They'd just insist that he eat. He buried his face in Cringer's fur, wishing that he could just fall asleep on command.

* * *

Teela walked irritably into the suite she shared with her father. She had wanted to stay with Adam, but her father had insisted that she join him for dinner. Never mind that Adam needed her, never mind that she would have been out of the palace if things had gone differently for Adam today, she had to eat with her father.

The blood pressure spike worried her. Even though Marlena had confirmed that it hadn't been a large one, it was still deeply alarming. People had to stop putting so much pressure on him. They were driving him into the ground, and no one seemed to care enough to stop.

She shut the door behind her and turned toward her own bedroom, intending to change out of the finery. She had only worn it because she had thought they were going to a tavern, and even then she'd known it was a little . . . much . . . for such an event. Wearing it had made her feel excited, foolish and pretty all at once. Maybe that's why –

"Teela?" her father said, a note of incredulity in his voice.

She turned on him, her worry making her snappish. "Who else would it be?" she asked. He was staring at her, his eyes wide. "Is there something wrong?"

"I just wasn't expecting . . ."

She was suddenly very embarrassed by all the frippery. "I'll go change. I'll be out in a minute."

"No, wait." He walked over and smiled at her, tucking a strand of her hair away from her face. "You look absolutely beautiful, dearheart."

"Thanks," she said, glancing down at the soft stuff she was wearing. "Adam and I were supposed to go listen to that musician tonight."

"I see. Well, if you want to change, I'll be waiting for you out here."

She went into her room and took the gown off, hanging it up reverently. There were a number of boxes on the floor by her closet, the tangible results of her trip into the city with the queen earlier in the day. She'd have to look through them later. In the meantime she pulled on a bedgown and a robe, not troubling with her hair for now, and went out to join her father.

He was waiting with dinner on the table, so she sat down and started to eat. He didn't seem disposed to begin talking immediately, and she sighed. What had been so urgent that she had to leave Adam's side? Had the king asked Teela's father to get her out of the way? He had left rather swiftly when she'd come in earlier. If that was it – Her angry thoughts derailed when her father cleared his throat.

"Teela, this may seem like rather a personal question," he said, sounding unexpctedly diffident. "But how do you feel about Adam?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, how do I feel about him?"

"It's not a hard question, Teela," he replied, and she got the feeling that he didn't want her to examine his motives or his meaning too closely.

"Apart from being thankful that he's alive, worried about his continued health problems, missing how easy we used to be together, and feeling guilty for being such an awful bitch, I . . ." She lifted her chin and fixed her father with a serious look. "I love him."

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again he seemed to be very tentative. "When you say love, do you mean the sort of love that leads to marriage and babies and things?" he asked.

"I don't know about things, but marriage and babies, yes."

"You do remember that this will mean you'll have to be queen one day?"

She nodded, sighing. "It's an unfortunate side effect of falling in love with a crown prince. Father, I have thought this through. I know how I feel, and I think he feels the same." She looked down at her plate. "It may take time . . . the queen says I need to be patient."

Her father nodded. "I don't pretend to know his mind these days, but I fear it will take him awhile to learn to trust you or his father again."

"Is he talking to you?" she asked. "I know he always has."

Her father's eyes went dark with worry. "No, he's not. He's angry with me, and I'm not sure how to solve it."

"Patience?" she ventured.

He gave her a wry look. "Unfortunately, I don't think patience will do it in my case. He's got a very valid reason to be angry with me, and I can't answer it. I tried and it only made things worse."

Teela shrugged, not sure what to say to him. She wasn't that great with emotional situations herself. In fact, without the queen's help, she'd probably be muddling things badly herself. "Is there anyone you could ask advice of?" she asked. "I suspect you're nearly as bad with emotions as I am."

Her father shook his head. "The only person I could ask advice of may have more difficulty seeing the right path than I do. Besides, I don't want to trouble . . . them . . . with it."

He was being very mysterious, though Teela could guess who he was probably talking about. "The Sorceress does seem to have many calls on her time," she said acerbically. "After all, she's never managed to find time to talk with me about what happened to me when she gave me that transfusion. Or maybe she just never tried."

Her father didn't seem to have an answer for that, so he just applied himself to his food. They ate in silence for a time. "Is that why you wanted to have dinner with me? To find out how I feel about Adam?" He nodded. "Damn it, Father, he needs me."

"He needs his parents, too. He's got a relationship to rebuild with his father."

Her temper flashed. "His father doesn't deserve him!" she snapped, glaring at him.

Duncan looked at her blandly for a moment, and she flushed under his regard. "Are you sure Adam feels the same way?" he asked neutrally. "If Adam is your real concern, his feelings on the matter should take some part in your reasoning."

She looked down. "I know Adam wants his father to care for him, but . . . I just worry that the king will make things worse."

"Sometimes a little worse is a degree towards better," her father said. "It's not as simple as you'd like to make it."

"I just don't want him upsetting Adam!" Teela growled. "He's so precarious, so fragile right now. I'm being so careful to do the right things."

"And you don't want Randor messing things up for you?"

"Is that so bad?" she asked imploringly.

Again he just looked at her until she was forced to look away. "Teela, you have to accept that Adam will need his father's relationship to heal as well. Who are you most concerned about? You? Or Adam?"

"Adam, of course," she said, feeling idiotic.

"Then again, I ask you, do you think Adam wants to make up with his father?"

"Of course he does, but –"

"Then there are no buts," her father interjected firmly. "While Randor's making a good faith effort to mend fences, you need to be supportive of that effort."

Teela glowered at her plate. "I suppose."

"And since you're just the smallest touch biased on the subject, I don't think you had better try to decide on your own whether Randor's efforts are 'good faith,' okay?" he went on. She flushed and nodded. "He does love Adam, and you shouldn't be so judgmental. You were –"

"Don't remind me, okay?" she asked, gazing up at him. "I know. I'm trying not to dwell on it. Queen Marlena said I should look toward the future."

He nodded. "Good advice, but maybe you should try applying it to your thoughts about Randor as well."

Feeling very chastened, she focused her attention on her plate. "I just can't stand him anymore. He makes me angry."

"Well, have you considered that it's because he reminds you of something you'd like to forget?"

Teela didn't reply to that. She knew what he meant and she didn't like thinking about it. In her less emotional moments, she knew she was being hypocritical, but she had difficulty remembering that when the king stood in the same room with her.

"Well, I just wanted to see how you felt, Teela."

"Why?" she asked, looking up at him curiously.

"I just wasn't sure you'd considered all the ramifications of such a relationship," he said. "And you're both so young."

"We're not that young, Father," she replied, stung by this assessment. "Queen Marlena was only twenty when she married the king."

"I know, I was there," he said.

"And she would have married him sooner, but there was the war, and then his taking up the throne."

"Thank you, Teela, I know all that. Randor was a good bit older."

"Well, if you think we should wait until we're Randor's age, I think you're crazy. Besides, Adam's a crown prince. I've already heard people saying he should wed and produce heirs."

"Are you ready to produce heirs, Teela? It will interfere with being captain of the guard."

Teela took a deep breath. "I've been trying very hard not to think about that."

"Well, dearheart, if it's a problem, you need to consider it."

"Won't getting married provide a surety that he intends to provide heirs?" Teela asked hopefully.

"With his wife on the battlefield, it seems unlikely. And as the wife of the crown prince, you will be a target for kidnapping. That would be easier on the battlefield than in the bower."

Teela glared. "People expect Adam to go out and fight, and he's just as much of a target."

"Maybe so," he said, "but there are other considerations that obtain with a princess."

"What, because I'm a woman? That's stupid."

He pursed his lips. "What if you were pregnant and didn't know it, and then you were captured?"

Teela felt the color drain from her face at the thought of what Skeletor could do in that situation. He'd have Adam and Randor over a barrel, and she would . . . She shuddered.

"And dearheart," he rose and walked to her side. "If you were captured as Adam's wife, and you weren't pregnant – well, you've always know that rape was a possibility, but it would have further implications for you as the princess."

Teela blinked and forced herself to consider the possibility of being returned to Adam carrying some other man's child. As Crown Prince, without an heir of his own as yet, he'd be forced to put her aside and marry someone else. Or else he'd have to accept the bastard offspring, and that would cause problems . . .

"Fine," she said. "Then I give up my position as captain of the guard, and work the way Marlena does. It's not the battlefield or the bower, Father," she pointed out and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Queen Marlena takes an active part in the work done to run Eternia."

"True," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Besides, I would then be the last line of defense before Adam. I won't stop training, and if someone came at Adam, or our child, I'd tear them apart."

"Now you sound like Marlena," he said, his eyes crinkling.

"Is that a bad thing?" she demanded.

Gazing into her eyes, he smiled, which disconcerted her. "Teela, I'm very proud of you." She stared into his eyes, shocked, then looked down at her plate. He'd said it before, but this time seemed to mean something different, something more about her than her acheivements.

* * *

Mekanek headed into the infirmary. He hoped they'd let him see Adam. He knew that a couple of the other masters had been turned away, but they weren't in on the secret. _Any of the secrets,_ he thought dryly, reflecting on what Adam had told him. _The others are all wondering why He-Man didn't show up for that last battle._ He'd have to ask Adam's permission to talk to Man-at-Arms, because he certainly hadn't held up his end of the secret very well. The others were already speculating that he had to know where He-Man was because he hadn't been at all surprised by his not showing up.

A medic met him at the door. "Are you injured, sir?" he asked.

"No," Mekanek said. "I –"

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Mekanek pursed his lips irritably, and the medic hastened to explain. "We're having too many people coming in who have no business here, who just want to try and catch sight of the prince, sneak in to see him, or hear some gossip to share. Dorgan has asked that we keep the traffic in here at a minimum."

"I can understand that, but I really do need to see the prince," Mekanek said. The medic's expression grew weary. "Is there some way I can get a message to Dorgan?"

"I will take one, sir. If you will just wait outside?"

Mekanek sighed and did as he was asked. The man was just doing his job, but it was hard not to be annoyed by the delay. Why couldn't people leave Adam alone?

A moment later the door opened and Dorgan stuck his head out. "Mekanek?" he called.

"Yes?"

"Come in, come in. You shouldn't have been denied admittance."

He heard the medic muttering in the background. "If you could just give me a list, sir, it would be much easier."

Dorgan ushered him into his own office, not into Adam's room as he had expected. Mekanek looked around at the walls full of medical books and obscure instruments with curiosity as Dorgan shut the door and made his way around his desk. "I've actually been intending to send for you today, so it's very handy that you should show up this way."

"You're welcome," Mek said, sitting down in one of the chairs that faced the chief healer's desk. "Why were you going to send for me, and why am I in here instead of visiting with Adam?"

Dorgan looked nonplussed by his reaction and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well, Mekanek, it's because Adam needs a counselor, and I haven't yet found one who is suitable. And when I said he needed to talk to a counselor, he suggested that he could talk to you."

"Ah," Mekanek said, enlightened. "And you want me to be more than just a friend to unload his troubles on? Some kind of therapeutic tool?"

"Not exactly," Dorgan said.

"Look, anything Adam says to me is going to be kept between the two of us, Dorgan. I hope you realize that."

"Anything that was said between the prince and a counselor would be the same. Confidentiality is a vital part of that relationship. What I think might work best is if I team you with someone who can give you advice when you feel out of your depth. There are people who could be of assistance to you who simply don't have the kind of clearance required to be privy to the intimate secrets of the crown prince."

"So long as they can give me advice without hearing the details, that would be great," Mekanek said. This sounded like a reasonable plan. "Does the king know about this?"

"Well, he was present when Adam asked to speak with you rather than a counselor, but I have not discussed this specific plan with him."

"To avoid problems down the line, maybe we'd better make him part of this decision," Mekanek said. "It would be better to have everything out in the open with him from the start. He doesn't like surprises much."

"That's certainly true. Wait here. I'll see if I can get both the king and queen in here."

Mekanek sat back in his chair, somewhat nervous lest Randor take it into his head that Mekanek should be some kind of informer for his king. He would have to stand up to him on that score, and that would not be pleasant.

A few moments later, the door opened again and Dorgan came in followed by Randor and Marlena. They looked dreadful, rather as if they'd slept all night in chairs. Which they probably had, he reflected, given Adam's condition.

"Good morning, Mekanek," Randor said. He looked the worst of the pair of them, as if he'd been crying half the night as well.

"Are you all right, sire?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected," the king replied, ushering his wife to a chair. "Adam's still asleep."

Marlena nodded at Mekanek then turned her attention to the healer. "Dorgan, you said you had something to discuss with us?"

"Yes. I have been unable to find a counselor suitable to Adam's particular needs, but he did say that he thought he could talk to Mekanek."

Both monarchs turned their eyes to him and he felt very self-conscious. "Will you, Mekanek?" Marlena asked earnestly. "It's a lot to ask, I know, but he needs an ear so desperately, and he seems unwilling to speak to . . . anyone."

"I was thinking that he would act in concert with a counselor, someone he could get advice from, but that he would, in every way, be accorded the same privileges as a medical counselor."

"Of course!" replied Marlena instantly.

"What do you mean?" asked Randor.

"I mean that he should have full confidentiality, or Adam won't be able to trust him sufficiently and it won't work."

"Right, of course," Randor said. "Whatever it takes."

Mekanek wondered if Randor really understood, or if he was just so desperate to get some help for Adam that he wasn't thinking things through. It didn't really matter. He had witnesses who would back him up if Randor started pestering him for details, so he was satisfied.

"Which do you want me to do first?" he asked Dorgan. "Speak to the counselor or see Adam?"

"See Adam, I think, but he isn't awake yet. However, this does mean that Mekanek will have a full time job that isn't fighting Skeletor or guarding the kingdom. Is there some way he can be detached from those duties?"

"Um . . ." Mekanek said, "I'm okay with that, but I don't think Adam will be. How about if I go part time with that?"

"You need to be available at any time Adam might need you," Dorgan said. "If you're out in the Sands of Time risking your . . . er . . . neck, that won't be possible."

"Adam's not going to like taking someone off the front lines."

There was silence as they all considered this notion. Finally, Marlena cleared her throat. "Perhaps if we create some kind of palace-based appointment for Mekanek," she said. "That way he'll be available, and Adam won't think it's because of him that he's not out with the masters."

"Like what?" Randor asked, knuckling his eye.

"Kicker of the Royal Butt?" Mekanek suggested.

Randor snorted wearily. "That wouldn't be sufficiently separate from Adam, I don't think."

Marlena gave them both a tired smile. "I've thought for some time that we needed to have someone who truly understood the masters' capabilities who could coordinate their efforts from the palace. We could call it a trial and see how well it works. Then, when everyone's ready for Mekanek to go on active duty . . ."

"We'll quite likely have a different candidate for the position," Randor said. "I think that's an excellent notion, and it will keep her from feeling as if she's not helping."

Mekanek raised his eyebrows. No need to ask who 'her' might be, but if they thought such a position would satisfy Teela, they were probably mistaken. Though Marlena was undoubtedly right. They all went haring out after every problem that they heard about, and then when other problems popped up, there was no one who could reasonably say that Man-E-Faces and Ram-Man were really needed for Problem B and could be spared from Problem A. And then he could start evaluating whether He-Man was needed for given situations at all. That might take some of the pressure off Adam.

He was liking this idea more and more. "That sounds like a plan to me. And everyone's so used to operating independently that if Adam needs me, they'll just go back to their usual patterns."

"I suppose we ought to consult Man-at-Arms before implementing this," Dorgan said. "It is rather interfering in his arena."

"I have a thought," Mekanek said. "I have something I want to ask Adam about before this plan can go forward. Why don't you two go get cleaned up, and I'll sit with Adam till he wakes up." Randor opened his mouth to object, but Mekanek shook his head. "Sire, you look like death warmed over, Adam doesn't need to see you this way any more than he already has. Marlena doesn't look much better, if you will forgive the impertinence, my queen."

"It's not impertinence, Mekanek," she said softly. "It's the truth." She rose, and they all rose with her. "Come along, Randor, Mek's right. We need to get cleaned up if we're to persuade Adam that he should as well."

The king bowed to his queen's insistence, and left with her. Mekanek turned to Dorgan. "I'll go into Adam's room now, which is it?"

"Come with me."

He followed the healer across into a room that was devoid of anything other than a bed, a couple of chairs and a table. "Dorgan, he needs flowers, tapestries, something to alleviate the gloom in here."

"We're working on it. Last evening the concern was keeping his blood pressure from sending him into a stroke."

Mekanek nodded and walked over to sit down by the bed. A Qadian stood on the other side of the room, and he gave him a curious look. "This is Felinar, one of the trio of guards Randor has posted on Adam. Felinar, Mekanek will be acting as Adam's counselor, so you will have to leave him alone with Adam from time to time."

"Nice to meet you, Felinar," Mekanek said.

"Likewise, sir," the Qadian said. He nodded at both of them and stepped out of the room.

Dorgan checked the monitor on Adam's left arm. "Well, he's asleep, so I wouldn't expect it to be a problem," the healer muttered. Looking over at Mekanek, he said, "This is a blood pressure monitor. If it starts beeping, get out of the way. A team will be rushing in to try and alleviate the problem, whatever it is."

Mekanek nodded. "How badly off is he really?"

"He's in severe danger of stroke and he's on suicide watch, both of which are pretty serious conditions."

"And he's awake," mumbled Adam. "Good morning to you both."

"Good morning," Dorgan said, not batting an eye. "Are you ready for your breakfast?"

"Give me an hour," Adam said, sitting up on his elbows and squinting at them through puffy eyes. "Food sounds revolting at the moment. Though I'd kill for a bottle of wine. I feel like I have a reverse hangover."

Mekanek raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Dorgan merely ignored the remark. "Shall I call Felinar in for your morning ritual?" Dorgan asked.

Before Adam could respond, Mekanek said, "Can you wait just a moment, Adam? I have a question to ask you and then I need to go see Man-at-Arms."

"Sure," Adam said. "I don't really feel like moving yet." Mekanek turned to Dorgan who nodded and left. Adam watched him go, then looked to Mekanek. "So, what's your question?" the prince asked.

"Actually, there are a couple of questions," Mekanek said. Adam sat the rest of the way up and gazed at him. The prince's eyes were puffy and tired, and his shoulders slumped. "First, I want to know if you're really willing for me to act as your counselor." Adam's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak. Mekanek held up his hand. "There's a plan to that effect, but if you don't want to go along with it, it won't wash no matter what everyone else puts together. And before you answer, I want you to consider that it means I'll have to talk to you about some pretty damned unpleasant emotions and be privy to a lot of secrets."

"There's no one I'd trust more," Adam said.

"It would be completely confidential, I wouldn't be talking to anyone about what you told me without your express permission."

"Good," Adam said. "And since you already know the most important secret, that makes it easier."

"I thought it might. Now, that leads us to the other question. Duncan knows about that secret as well, and I need him to know, so he's not fretting and asking me foolish questions that could lead to problems with other people making connections they don't need to make."

"Do you have to?" Adam asked.

"I think that there are enough secrets going around, that doesn't need to be one of them."

Adam sighed. "If you really think it's necessary."

"I do, Adam." He tousled the boy's hair. "Now, do you feel the need to talk this minute?"

"No," the prince said. "I feel the need to stop being itchy. Would you mind asking Felinar to come in?"

"Nope, and I'll be back later in the morning."

Adam nodded, scratching the back of his head and climbing out of bed. Mekanek grinned at him and then left, letting Felinar get back to his duty.

He poked his head into the healer's office to see if he was available. Dorgan gestured him in. "You might want to think about finding a good counselor for Randor," Mekanek said. "He looks terrible, and I feel sure it's not all physical."

"Usually Duncan fills that function," Dorgan said, knitting his brows in perplexity.

"I don't think you can count on him for that right now," Mekanek said. "He's got problems of his own."

Dorgan nodded and Mekanek, sketching a vague salute, left in the direction of Duncan's workshop. He wondered how Man-at-Arms was going to react to finding out that Adam had told the secret to Mekanek. The door to the workshop was open, and Mekanek walked in to find Duncan giving some instructions to Ram-Man and Buzz Off regarding some equipment they were supposed to be using to check out the safety of a mine in the mountains to the west of Eternos.

"So if you get readings in the red, clear the mine immediately, then call me."

"Yes, sir, Man-at-Arms," Ram-Man said.

"But if it's green, we can tell the miners it's safe?"

"Yes," Duncan said unequivocally.

"Well, then, we'd better be heading out," Buzz Off said. Ram-Man picked up the large object and they turned. "Oh, hello, Mekanek. Did you manage to see Adam?"

"Yes, I did," he replied.

Both of them paused, and Duncan's eyes widened behind them. "How is he?" asked Ram-Man.

"He's not feeling too great, I don't think," Mekanek said. "But he'll be fine."

"Tell him we're thinking about him," Ram-Man said, and Buzz Off nodded. Then the oddly matched pair left the workshop, closing the door behind them. Mekanek watched them go, then turned the latch to bar access to casual intruders.

"What is it, Mek?" Man-at-Arms asked uneasily.

"We need to talk, Duncan, very seriously."

"Is Adam worse!" he asked, his face growing abruptly worried.

"I don't know, I think he had a bad night, but I don't know more than that."

Duncan nodded, evidently relieved. "Then what is it?" he asked, leading the way over to a table where the masters often had meetings to go over technical details.

"Your daughter left Adam with me, that first day, when she came to talk to you." Duncan nodded, he seemed to know this. "Well, Adam told me what the core of his problem is." He waited to see if that was going to be enough to bring the facts home to his commander.

Duncan raised an eyebrow, looking extraordinarily blank. "What do you mean?"

"He told me he was He-Man."

Duncan's gaze never wavered, in fact, it grew into a fixed stare. "He said what?" he asked in a voice that sounded as if he had forced it out of a constricted throat.

"He told me that he's He-Man. He didn't go into the details about how it happens, though I'd imagine it's some kind of magical item, maybe that sword. It appeared at about the same time as He-Man did."

Duncan looked uneasy. "Mekanek, Adam's under a great deal of stress lately, and he's not really in his right mind. You can't take –"

A flash of anger surged through Mekanek at this pathetic attempt to imply that Adam was lying. "Don't give me that, Duncan," he said harshly, and the other man's words broke off, and he stared Mek with wide eyes. "The minute he said it, it was as if something had snapped in my mind. All the incredible coincidences, the ridiculous moments when Adam vanished abruptly, they suddenly made sense."

Duncan seemed about ready to choke for a moment, then he said, "Mekanek, you've – he's –"

"Accept it, Duncan, I know the truth, and I'm not going to unknow it. I'm not planning on spreading it around, either, though, and you know I can keep a secret."

Duncan just shook his head, seeming utterly at a loss. Then his eyes went strangely distant, and Mekanek crossed his arms to wait.

* * *

_NB: It has been some time since I have posted, and I would like to apologize for that fact. Life got very complicated, between a roommate (who might as well be a sister) whose parents got multiple cases of cancer over the space of a year, things getting very complicated (in a good way) at work, and life just heating up in many different directions._

_One problem is that this story is very difficult for me to write. Those of you have read others of my stories are undoubtedly aware that I generally write action/adventure types of stories, which this one, at least thus far, is not. I like it, and I'm excited by it, but given recent upheavals, working on a story that is difficult to write has not been on my list of priorities._

_The other is that I totally lost connectivity from August to December of this year, which put paid to posting of any kind. Additionally, I have been working outside this fandom on much more easily written tales of adventure and . . . things that are not appropriate for this forum, for the most part. There is one tale that I have written that would be acceptable here, and I will try to post it as soon as it is beta'd, so for those of you who enjoy Stargate SG-1, you have something to look forward to._

_For your information, what I am posting here now is something that was written over a year ago, but which I have not had either time nor energy to actually put up here. There are a few more posts worth already written, and I will try to get those up in a timely manner. Please forgive me if there is another long-ish wait. I do have some pressure here at home to finish this story, and ideas are bubbling nicely in the back of my head, but I have somewhat overextended myself in terms of projects._


	16. A Little Forward Movement

**Chapter 16 – A Little Forward Movement**

"_Bring him to Grayskull," _the Sorceress said in Duncan's mind. _"I can erase his memory and that will take care of the problem."_

"_I don't think so," _Duncan replied. _"The 'problem' is a lot bigger than Mekanek's knowing."_

"_How so?"_ she asked sharply.

"_Adam knows Mekanek knows, and Adam's been talking to him about it."_

"_Yes, Duncan, I realize that. That is the problem we're trying to curtail."_

He shook his head irritably. _"Don't be any more of a fool than you have to be, Sorceress!"_ he replied. _"Damn it, woman, can you let go of your rules for just a moment and _think_? Elders!"_ She was silent and he went on. _"Mekanek may be Adam's only release valve right now,"_ he said. _"He's not –"_

"_He can talk to you,"_ she said.

"_He's not mad at Mekanek. Right now he's fairly comprehensively mad at the world, with you and I singled out for special attention."_

"_What? But –"_ She broke off without finishing. _"I see. And you think that Mekanek can be trusted with this secret?"_

"_Yes, I do,"_ Duncan said. _"I'm certain that he can be."_

"_Very well, but I will need to speak with him."_

"_So speak with him. You can talk in his mind, can't you?"_

"_I suppose. I had thought you could bring him to Grayskull. I have never met him."_

"_I doubt very much I could persuade him to accompany me to Grayskull at this moment. Talk to the man if you want to, don't if you don't."_

"_Why are you so out of sorts?"_

He made no reply, and after a moment, she withdrew from his mind, much to his relief.

* * *

Mekanek watched Duncan. He'd seen Eternia's man-at-arms take on this air of distance before, and it always seemed to presage the announcement of an edict from the Sorceress or the sudden acquisition of knowledge he couldn't have gained by ordinary means. Adam did it, too, sometimes, and so did He-Man. If Duncan opened his eyes and asked Mekanek to accompany him to Grayskull, he resolved to refuse the honor.

"_Mekanek?"_ He looked up, startled by the sudden voice in his mind.

"Sorceress?"

"_You needn't speak aloud, I can hear your thoughts."_

"_That's kind of creepy, you know?"_

She sighed. He didn't quite know how he could tell that, but he could. _"I need to speak to you regarding your knowledge of Adam's secret."_

"_Okay, speak away,"_ he replied.

"_This is not a humorous subject!"_ she snapped. _"This secret must be kept. Adam could not operate effectively as He-Man if his enemies knew the truth."_

Mekanek nodded. _"And he can't operate effectively as Adam if his friends don't. But I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, and that's all that counts."_

"_Well, there is something you should know. You cannot tell Randor. If you do, he will die. Don't ask me how I know, I simply do."_

"_I see,"_ he said, and he grimaced, not sure whether to believe her or not. _"Well, I told Adam I wouldn't tell anyone, and I won't. They've asked me to be his counselor, which gives me official protection as well, and it means that I can actually help him, which a regular counselor, who wouldn't know the truth, wouldn't."_

This won a grudging, _"That's good, then,"_ from her. _"If you need help, or have a question about Adam's task as He-Man, you may ask me. I will not promise to answer, but you may ask."_

"_How very generous of you,"_ he said sourly. _"Are you telling me that Adam doesn't even know everything about what you've asked him to do?"_ he demanded. _"That hardly seems fair."_

"_I tell him what he needs to know when he needs to know it."_

"_And does anyone else know this information?"_

"_I am his guide,"_ she said, maddeningly not answering the question.

"_And if you were suddenly put out of commission?"_ he asked. _"Not killed, I'm sure you have an answer for that one, but if you were suddenly knocked unconscious for a long stretch of time, and Adam suddenly had a 'need' to know something, what would he do? Guess?"_ He shook his head again. _"Look, I'm sorry, this isn't the time for this. I need to get back to Adam, and I haven't finished talking to Duncan. Can this wait?"_

She was silent for a long moment, long enough for him to wonder what she had in the way of long range weapons, then she spoke again. _"Very well. I will speak to you later, at a more propitious moment."_

"_Thank you,"_ he said, and he felt the presence that had accompanied the voice pull away.

"Well, that was interesting," he said aloud. "She is a bossy lady."

"Yes, she is," Duncan replied. "What did she say?"

"We agreed to defer the conversation to a later time because I still have things to go over with you and I need to get back to Adam." Duncan's brows raised as if this startled him. Perhaps it did. Perhaps he never tried to shut the lady up when she was getting dictatorial. "One of the things that came up when Dorgan was giving me my instructions was that I'll have to stay at the palace pretty much all the time to be ready if Adam needs me."

"That makes sense."

"But it would make Adam crazy, knowing that he was not only keeping He-Man out of the battle by being unwell, but keeping me away as well." Duncan blinked briefly, looking startled, and then nodded. "He doesn't need the extra stress. So, Marlena came up with a solution. I'll be doing a new job, on trial, so to speak, to see if the job works within our system. She wants me to stay at the palace and coordinate the masters' reactions to the various crises that come up. The masters will be able to manage themselves if I'm needed with Adam, but otherwise, I can make sure the right people hit the right problems."

Duncan nodded slowly. "That sounds like an excellent plan. Adam will think it's legitimate, and it will be, in a way."

"Not in a way, it _will _be legitimate. Marlena says she's been wanting to do something like this for some time."

"Has she?" Duncan said. "I wasn't aware of that." He sat down. "I'm surprised you're not yelling at me, Mek, knowing what you know."

"Would it help?" Mekanek asked, half-sitting, half-leaning on the table.

Duncan sighed. "Not really."

"What happened?"

"I didn't pay enough attention," Duncan said miserably. "I thought when he stopped coming to me with problems that it meant he'd stopped having problems."

Mekanek nodded. "I see. What did you do when he did bring his problems to you?"

Duncan looked away. "Not enough, I don't think. I –" He bit his lip, shaking his head. "I guess I stressed the responsibility too much. I thought if I was too sympathetic, he wouldn't . . ."

"I think I understand, and it's a hard line to walk," Mekanek said. "You were probably right, at first, but . . ." He shook his head. "But there's no point in dissecting the past."

"Except that it might help you with Adam's present,"

Mekanek pursed his lips. "Well, I will come and pick your brain if it becomes necessary. At the moment, I think I need to head back to Adam. I just wanted – well, I could see you getting worried when you heard that I would be working with Adam, lest I find out the secret, and I thought I'd better warn you that I already knew it."

Duncan nodded. "I would have been worried. Thanks, Mek. I warn you, I don't know that the Sorceress is altogether thrilled about this development."

"Well, that's her problem," Mekanek said. "My only concern right now is Adam." He pushed off the table. "We're going to come out of this," he said.

"Yes, but what's Randor going to think of us when he finds out the truth?"

Mekanek crossed his arms. "I don't know," he said. "But right now I'm more worried about holding Adam together. I'll see you later, Duncan."

* * *

When Adam came out of the bathing chamber, he found his father waiting in the chair by the bed. There were a couple of trays on the table, and it was clear that his father wanted to have breakfast with him. Adam crossed over to the bed and sat down, still scrubbing at his hair. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Adam," his father said. "I –"

"If you start apologizing again, I will be forced to punch you," Adam said with feeling. "After the first three or four times it stops being about making me feel better and starts being about making you feel better."

His father rocked back in his chair, obviously startled. "You . . . you have a good point there," he said shakily.

"Now, let's have breakfast and talk," Adam said with considerably more good cheer than he actually felt. He was pleased to see that when he wasn't tired and overly emotional, his acting skills returned. He smiled at his father and gestured with his head.

The king followed him to the breakfast table and they pulled the covers off their trays. They started eating, and Adam said, "So, what needs to be done today?" Maybe if he put on a good enough face, they could get past this aberration quickly.

His father looked up at him, an odd expression on his face. "You're hiding from me," he said, his voice very tense. "Stop it."

"Hiding?" Adam asked lightly. "I don't know what you mean. I'm right here."

The king knit his brows. "I don't mean physically. You're putting on a mask for me, hiding your feelings."

Adam shook his head, keeping the mildly perplexed smile on his face with a bit of effort. "I'm not hiding my feelings, Father. I just feel much better in the light of day." Adam's mind was racing anxiously. His father wasn't supposed to see beneath the surface. He never had before.

"I'd like to believe that's true," Randor said. "But I don't." He leaned across the table and caught Adam's left hand. "Son, talk to me. Tell me how you feel."

Adam gulped and took a deep breath. "Don't," he said, and his voice felt like it was coming from deeper in his throat than usual.

"Don't what?" Randor asked, sounding worried. "Don't touch you, don't ask?"

"Don't act like you care if you don't mean it," Adam said, and then bit his lip to keep from speaking further. His mouth was running away with him. He kept saying stupid things like that, he'd never convince them he was better.

"I do care, Adam," Randor said. "I want to know what you're feeling."

Adam looked down at his plate. He freed his hand from his father's grasp so he could start cutting up his sausages. "I don't know what I'm feeling half the time," he said. "It's like I'm in a wind raider that's out of control." He looked up to see if his father was still listening. Their eyes met and Adam could see that he really was paying attention. "One minute I'm up, the next I'm down, and sometimes I crash."

"Things will stabilize. Mekanek will help you out there, I think. He's one of the most stable people I know."

Adam nodded. "He is. He's a good friend."

They ate in silence for a moment, then his father said, "What are you feeling right now?"

"I'll answer you on one condition," Adam replied. His father raised an eyebrow, and the prince could see him control an impulse towards irritation. "You have to tell me what you're feeling."

His father looked thoughtful for an instant, then said, "Deal. You first."

"Confused," Adam said honestly. "I don't understand what's changed. Nothing about me has changed, so why are you acting differently?"

"Something about you _has_ changed," Randor said, his brow furrowing. His eyes widened with alarm. "Or was that _not_ the first time you attempted suicide?"

Adam flushed. "I never meant to," he said, feeling intensely guilty. "I thought I'd hurt Teela, and I couldn't bear myself."

"Son, that isn't a person's first impulse on making a mistake."

"It wasn't my first mistake," Adam said. "And if I had hurt her, it would have been a pretty sizable one, wouldn't it?"

There was a pause, and when his father spoke again, he didn't address the question, instead returning to his original point. "But that is a change," he said. "You've crossed a line you hadn't before, and it does make a difference."

"But . . ." Adam shook his head. "Your turn," he said, because he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

His father bit his lip. "I'm feeling pretty confused, too," he said. "And angry at myself on a number of levels."

"Angry at me?" Adam asked though he feared the answer.

The king seemed to be searching within himself for several moments. "No," he said finally. "I'm not angry with you, nor anyone else right now, except maybe Skeletor and his crew. I'm just angry at myself."

"Why, though?" Adam asked.

His father looked down at his plate. "How blind have I been? I thought you were happy, but it turns out that you were so miserable you . . ." He took a great shuddering breath and didn't name the act. "I _was_ angry with you, but if I had just looked closer, if I'd paid more attention, I might have seen –"

"Father, I was hiding my feelings," Adam said hastily as his father approached a breakdown. "I'm very good at that, actually, so it's not really surprising that you didn't see through it."

* * *

Randor stared at his son, utterly astounded and more than a little appalled. Three days ago, he'd said something that caused Adam to attempt suicide, and now the boy was making excuses for him. What did it mean? Was Adam simply that selfless? Or did he just consider his own feelings to be that unimportant? Whatever it was, it couldn't be healthy.

"Don't try to ease my guilt, Adam," Randor said. "I'm your father, I should have been able to see the signs."

Adam shook his head earnestly. "I'm saying that I took care to make sure that there _were_ no signs," the prince protested.

"Perhaps that's true, but if I'd taken the time to talk to you rather than snapping out orders and criticisms, you would have had a harder time hiding it from me." He shook his head. "I screwed up, Adam, don't try to make excuses for me."

"I don't like seeing you feel this bad," Adam said.

Randor gave his son a smile. "Don't worry about me," he said. "I'll feel better as you do."

Adam looked at him oddly, then shrugged. "I can't see myself feeling better," he said. "I have trouble sometimes remembering what it was like to not have something dragging at me."

The bleak expression in his son's eyes made Randor wonder how he could ever have thought that Adam was happy. He ran some of their more recent encounters through his mind and saw signs that should have given him hints, had he been open enough to see them. A certain neutrality in the boy's expresssion and manner that Randor had chosen to view as insolence . . . He bit his lip to keep from babbling more apologies.

"You will know that feeling again, Adam," Randor said. "We can make it happen, son, if we all work together."

"I'll try," Adam said. "There are just so many . . ." He trailed off, looking down at his plate. "It's difficult."

"I know, son. And that's why we're not going to leave you to deal with it on your own again."

At that moment, there was a light rapping at the door. Randor started to answer it, but then he looked at Adam. It was his room.

"Come in," Adam called uncertainly.

The door opened and Mekanek strode in. "Hello again, Adam, Randor." He nodded at both of them. "Well, sire, not to put too fine a point on it, if you've finished your breakfast, which it looks like you have, we'll be seeing you later."

Randor raised his eyebrows, glanced at Adam, and stood up. "I guess I'd better go, son. I'll see you for lunch."

Adam looked up at him. "I'm sure you have business, Father, I don't want to take you away from . . ."

"Do you not want me to come?" Randor asked.

Adam shook his head fervently. "No, it's not that. I just know that you have duties, as king, that you need to fulfill."

Randor nodded. "I do, but none of that matters nearly as much to me as spending time with you. I've wasted enough of the time we have together, I think." Before his emotions could get the better of him, he gave Adam a quick squeeze on the shoulder and left the room.

He looked over at Felinar and said, "Make sure no one just walks in on them, would you?"

"Yes, sire," the Qadian said.

Randor smiled at him, then went to find his secretary, Jenkins. No doubt he would rail at him for not being available, but Jenkins was happiest when he could feel put upon.

* * *

After Randor left them, there was an awkward silence during which Adam gazed down at his plate. Mekanek couldn't see what was so interesting about it, since it was empty aside from a few ends of sausages and a splat or two of egg. There was another knock at the door and Mekanek went to anwer it. A medic came in and cleared away the plates, then went away and shut the door behind him, leaving them alone again.

Mekanek walked over and sat down. "So, Adam, what do you want to talk about?"

Shrugging, still looking down at the table, Adam said, "I don't know."

_Great question, Mek,_ the master told himself. _The kid's depressed, that doesn't usually lead to a lot of talking._ "Well, you told me you're He-Man, but I don't really know how that came to be. Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me."

Adam looked up and his eyes were distant. "It was my sixteenth birthday," he said. "Duncan took me to Grayskull before the attack on the palace."

As the story unfolded, Mekanek could see that a network of guilt and responsibility had built around the young prince. His refusal to believe the Sorceress' first announcement, his decision not to return to Grayskull when he discovered the attack, both had combined to make him, in his own mind, responsible – no – culpable both for his father's capture and for the torture the king had suffered at Skeletor's hands.

"I still don't understand why he couldn't have given me some clue, some reason to believe what she told me," Adam said, his face screwed up in an effort to control both his anger and his misery. "I don't know that it would have helped, but she sounded so ludicrous, calling me a hero and asking me to defend Eternia from evils I didn't really believe in."

"Maybe he wasn't allowed to," Mekanek suggested. "Have you ever asked him?"

Adam shook his head. "It seemed kind of pointless and mean. Like I was blaming him for my failure to act."

Mekanek nodded thoughtfully. "I can see where it could be, but it would depend a lot on how and when you said it."

"I don't think I could ask it in any way that wouldn't sound accusatory now," Adam said. "So much has happened." His fists clenched on the table. "I am so angry with him!" he growled suddenly. "I don't know how to handle it. Him and the Sorceress both."

"Why are you angry?"

Adam was silent for a long while, and Mekanek wasn't sure whether he should prod him or let him work his way through his thoughts. He was on the verge of saying something when Adam spoke again. "I've spent the last three years going back and forth between being He-Man and being Adam, enduring the taunts and barbs cast at me by members of the court, my father, even some of the masters, and Man-at-Arms and the Sorceress both just told me to suck it up, that He-Man would always be needed, and that Prince Adam had to be a secondary concern." He paused again.

"And?" Mekanek prompted as the pause lengthened.

"And now Man-at-Arms tells me that they think they messed up. That they should have been more supportive than they were . . ." Adam shook his head, face screwed up against tears that fell nonetheless. "It felt like a slap in the face, that apology. I don't know how to explain it, but I've never been so angry at a friend before. I've been angry and upset by my father, but that was nothing to this. And I don't know how to deal with it. I'm not any good at being angry."

"You manage it okay with Skeletor," Mekanek pointed out, though he understood what Adam was saying.

"That's different," the prince protested. "It's one thing to be angry with someone who's doing terrible things and hurting people, it's quite another to be angry with a friend who was probably just doing the best he knew how."

"True."

"It isn't fair to Duncan, but I can't help it." Adam stopped talking again, and Mekanek waited to see if he was going to say any more. After several minutes, the prince pursed his lips. "And then there's the secret. People ask him where I am, and he comes out with these lame excuses that I then have to admit to or call him a liar. It's bad enough when I'm stuck with some stupid thing I came up with, but when my father comes up to me and demands to know what I was thinking, and I have no idea what story Man-at-Arms gave him, I wind up looking like a complete idiot, or, as Father put it on one of his less tolerant days, like an insolent whelp." Adam glowered into the corner at nothing.

"And the Sorceress never has anything to say to me except, 'I had a vision, and this is what you must do,' or 'the price of the power you have been granted is . . .' and then follows some long homily on whatever it was I was complaining about that day." He shook his head. "I know she has a pretty wretched life, too, locked up in that castle all the time, but she's not constantly lying to everyone she knows. Prince Adam is a habitually late, flirtatious, party-mad courtier. He-Man is a champion, full of wisdom and witty wisecracks, and ready to destroy anyone who threatens the innocent. There's no room left for me to be just Adam."

Mekanek nodded.

"And I can't figure it out. One of these days, Elders let it be a long way off, I'm going to have to be king. Who's going to listen to feckless Prince Adam then?" He grimaced. "I'm not sure whether the Sorceress just doesn't care about that or if she knows that I won't survive that long, so it's not a concern."

Mekanek reflected that he and the Sorceress really did need to have words. How could she leave the boy in such a state of uncertainty? She must surely have had some inkling of his unsettled state, if she could read minds.

"Not that it matters," Adam said. "I'm serving the country and all of that nonsense. I'm making the world safe for decent people. Never mind that no one knows it's me, never mind that I look like a coward and an idiot. I'm glad to be able to help people, but –" He broke off, eyes full of something that might be self-disgust. "And I feel so damned selfish when I think things like that! Is it wrong to want something for myself?"

"No, Adam, it's not wrong," Mekanek said firmly. He'd probably have to say it many more times before this was done. "Not remotely."

"Then why does it feel wrong?" It was a cry of desperation, and couldn't go unanswered.

Mekanek bit his lip, struggling to find the right words. "Because when you've devoted yourself to something like serving the kingdom, it's difficult to admit that sometimes you need to do things for yourself. And you've been told that you're a hero, and you are one, but there are certain preconceived notions that go with that. One is that a hero can give of himself endlessly without any consequences. But that's hogwash, and you and I both know it."

Adam shrugged, but didn't say anything.

"So, tell me more about those early days, Adam. What was it like for you?"

Adam started to talk again, haltingly at first, but slowly growing more comfortable. It was an odd experience, discovering a completely unexpected perspective on some of those well-remembered events. He recalled, for instance, a number of occasions when Adam was out of commission for one reason or another, when He-Man didn't show up to the immense perplexity of the masters. And Duncan's excuses for He-Man's absences had been pretty lame as well, Mekanek reflected.

Mekanek noticed that they'd been talking for nearly an hour and a half, and Adam seemed to be getting both tired and a bit edgy, so he called a halt. It also seemed like a good idea to take some time to absorb all the information Adam had given him, before his mind overloaded and started losing things.

The prince seemed grateful for the respite and readily agreed that they should meet again in the morning. "But don't feel you have to wait till then," Mekanek said. "I've got a new post here in the palace, acting as a coordinator to help make sure the right masters get to the right problems as efficiently as possible, so if you need me, I'll be around. You just call and I'll come."

"I don't want to bother –"

"Now look here, Adam," Mekanek said, "you are not bothering me. I'm your counselor and your friend. If you need to talk, you give me a holler and I'll come talk."

"Okay," Adam said reluctantly.

"You needn't sound so excited," Mekanek said, winning a gleam of amusement from Adam.

"See you later, Mek."

Mekanek stuck his thumb up at Adam and walked out, holding the door for Felinar. The Qadian nodded at him as he walked past.

Mekanek went out into the gardens and sat down on a bench, contemplating the past three years since He-Man had shown up. So many battles, so many adventures . . . all with a man he'd thought he knew, but now that he really considered him, He-Man had never once talked about himself. He was always amiable, and if he was around, he'd lend an ear to a friend. Mekanek blinked. Adam was much the same, always ready to help a friend in trouble, but never talking much about his own troubles.

_And that's really surprising, given that they're the same person,_ he chided himself. It was difficult, though, thinking back on some of the things that had taken place. That harness that punished He-Man for every good thought or action . . . Adam was sixteen when that happened. Mekanek shook his head. They'd all taken He-Man for an adult, a grown man, and Duncan had encouraged that impression. It had created an atmosphere that forced Adam into situations and decisions that he should never have faced at his age. He'd led them in battle more times than Mekanek could count.

Adam had always been extremely upset when one of them was injured in battle. Now Mekanek had a clearer understanding of why. It was his plan that had gone awry and allowed his friend to be wounded. That was an awful burden for such young shoulders.

Admittedly, Adam might have been king at sixteen if He-Man hadn't managed to catch – Mekanek's thought stopped and he blinked. _There I go, thinking of them as separate people. Adam dove into that abyss to catch Randor . . . and Randor doesn't know._ And couldn't know, if the Sorceress was to be believed. She'd always proven accurate before, though, which made him loath to disregard her words. He couldn't help thinking that she might be trading on that impression, but it didn't matter. He wasn't keeping the secret because of what she'd said. He was keeping it because he'd promised Adam.

A memory came to him suddenly of He-Man saying "Adam is a pretty smart kid." _Modest, too,_ Mekanek thought ironically, then sobered abruptly. Actually, he was. Almost painfully modest and self-effacing. He did flirt a lot with the young women of the court, but other than that, he didn't put himself forward much. And when He-Man showed up, he stuck to the business at hand, did his job, made sure everyone came out safely, then went away again. If Adam had any close personal relationships that predated the suicide attempt, Mekanek didn't know about them. And He-Man didn't have time to form that kind of bond . . .

What they needed to do was make Adam's life as himself more livable. Find a way to allow Randor to accept that his son wasn't to be a warrior, that he was going to miss appointments from time to time, but that he was a decent kid who helped people out and was good in a diplomatic situation. _That's gonna happen,_ Mek thought, grimacing. An idea occurred to him, and he was very glad that Adam hadn't come up with that particular alternative solution. If he was He-Man all the time, he'd be able to make friends and have relationships. Of course, he might be sent off to look for that Prince Adam guy, which would be a bit of an inconvenience. Maybe it wasn't possible to be He-Man for an extended stretch of time. Besides, it would devastate Adam's parents and friends. Not to mention the court. Adam might feel the taunts he received very keenly, but Mekanek had always been pleased by the fact that most of the court seemed to recognize the boy's quality despite what appeared to be his faults. If he vanished, Adam would be sorely missed. And Mekanek frankly doubted that it would be enough for Adam to live as He-Man. Oddly, he ocasionally seemed to refer to him as a different person, separate from himself. "He-Man did . . ." Not, "I did . . . while I was He-Man." No, Adam would want to live as himself.

He wondered how he was supposed to talk to the Sorceress.

"_You could try finding a vehicle and coming here,"_ suggested that woman.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, standing up. Remembering himself, he kept the next part of his comment silent. _"How long have you been listening in?"_

"_I haven't been,"_ she replied. _"You thought about contacting me. When someone within a specific group of people does that, I am alerted. You joined that group earlier today."_

"_I guess that makes sense,"_ Mekanek said, sitting down on the bench again. _"I can't come to Grayskull, though. I'm supposed to stay handy in case Adam needs me. He's still pretty fragile."_ He got a sense of deep anxiety and distress. Raising an eyebrow, he said, _"Forgive me, Sorceress, if this is rude, but how much of that worry is for Adam as a person and how much is for Adam as the 'Champion of Grayskull'?"_

There was a surge of anger across the link they shared and a sharp surge in her worry that felt very much as if it was for Adam the person. _"I care very much for Adam,"_ she said in reserved tones. _"My feelings are of no importance, however."_

"_I see. Well, I think they might be of importance to him. Got a question for you, and I really hope it falls into the category of answerable."_

"_Go on,"_ she said.

"_Have you had some kind of vision that says that Adam's going to die young?"_ From her he sensed surprise and dismay, but he wasn't sure how to interpret that. She might be dismayed that he had guessed. He waited with baited breath for her answer.

"_I can answer that. I have had no vision of the kind. I have, on various occasions, attempted to call one, but never successfully. Why do you ask?"_

He sighed. _"You might let Adam know that fact. He seems to think you may have, and I think it's causing him some pain."_

"_I've never even hinted at such a thing. Where would he get that impression?"_

Mekanek pursed his lips irritably. _"By the Elders, woman, he's a crown prince. He knows he's supposed to inherit the throne, and he's not stupid. The cover you and Duncan have chosen for him has made him a likely candidate for disinheritance, and even if Randor didn't disinherit him, the people might refuse to accept him whether his father was chosen by the Elders or not."_

"_I suppose I can see where you're coming from."_

"_I'm glad. Because that's what's led Adam to this conclusion. Neither you nor Duncan seems remotely concerned about this fact, so he's come to assume that he's likely to die before inheriting. As he's a champion as well, that probably makes it seem all the more likely."_

"_I hadn't considered that aspect of things,"_ she admitted, sounding startled and more than a bit chagrined. _"I will have to say something to him."_ She paused for a moment. _"I don't know how he'll respond, though, I understand he's angry with me."_

"_He is, very,"_ Mekanek said. _"But I don't think you'd better let that stop you from reassuring him on this point. Tell him you were an idiot, that might help."_ He got the mental equivalent of an embarrassed cough. _"Just be careful. He already feels guilty for being angry. Don't make that worse. He's got plenty of reason to be angry, and denying his own perfectly natural emotions is part of what's gotten him into this mess."_

"_I will keep that in mind,"_ she said.

"_See that you do,"_ he replied. _"Now, this champion thing. Is there any chance his high blood pressure could be related to that in some physical way, beyond the stress it's inducing?"_

"_I don't believe so,"_ she said. _"I'll see if I have any references on the subject."_

"_Good. Is –"_ His thought broke off for he felt her suddenly absent himself from his mind. _"Sorceress?"_ he said and waited for a moment. _"Sorceress?"_ He grimaced irritably. If she always ended conversations so abruptly, it couldn't help Adam's stress level any.

* * *

Adam sat back from the board as Felinar scanned the pieces and it sank in that he had lost the third time in a row. The Qadian's ears were twitching unhappily.

"You got considerably closer that time," Adam said. "I just have a lot of practice."

"With extremely good players, I understand," Felinar said. "That pair of the masters who put on a weekly tournament."

"Manny and Roboto, yeah," Adam said, nodding. "Actually, I don't think it started as quite the spectator sport it's become." He grinned. "It started as a weekly game between the two of them, and as word spread . . . I guess people started attending their matches. Now it's a big deal." Adam snorted. "That's the way things are at court. People will get bored in a few weeks, they'll find something else to do and the games will go back to being sparsely attended."

"It is not like that at the Qadian court, but we do not have so large a gathering as you do," said Felinar.

"Perhaps one of these days you could teach me a Qadian game," Adam suggested. He opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment something unexpected happened.

"_Adam, may I speak with you?"_ said the Sorceress' voice in his mind. She had a curiously tentative note in her mental voice.

He blinked in startlement and turned his attempt to speak into a yawn. "I think I'm going to take a nap, Felinar," he said. The Qadian didn't seem at all surprised, he just nodded and stood up. "You don't have to stand all the time."

"I'm comfortable," he said, smiling. "Sleep, it will be good for you."

Adam lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. _"Yes, Sorceress?"_ he asked, trying to keep his own mental voice as bland as possible. _"I'm still not allowed out of the infirmary."_

"_I'm not calling to ask for your help,"_ she said. _"I'm calling to ask how you are."_

This surprised him. She'd never shown any interest in him that wasn't directly related to being the champion of Grayskull. Of course, she'd have to be worried about him not being able to take action as the champion of Grayskull, so perhaps that was the explanation.

"_No, Adam,"_ she said, proving once again that she could read his surface thoughts. _"I'm concerned about you because you're unwell, and I care about you." _Adam found that difficult to believe, as she'd never expressed any interest in his life outside his duties to Grayskull. _"Just because I haven't asked, Adam, doesn't mean I don't care,"_ she said. _"You've seen my window. I watch you fairly often, so I don't need to ask."_

"_That's just my activities,"_ he said. _"There are other things to ask about. I mean, I suppose I've never really asked you very often, but when I've tried you always put me off, so I assumed you just weren't interested in that sort of thing."_

She was silent again. When she spoke, she seemed very . . . was it shy? _"I'm a very reserved person, Adam, and I don't speak to many people. Sometimes it's easier to stick to business, because then I know what to say."_

Adam was stunned. The Sorceress felt uncomfortable talking to people? It would never have occurred to him that she was socially timid. She was always so forthright in their conversations, downright bossy most of the time. But it made sense to him. He began to feel guilty for not noticing it before, and taking steps to bring her out of her shell.

"_By the Ancients, Adam, don't start feeling guilty! I'm a grown woman, and I can take care of myself. My behavior as your guide has been less than what it should be, because I didn't take your youth into account."_

"_I should have seen that you weren't at ease, tried to get past your barriers."_

"_You are not responsible for the happiness of the whole world, Adam!"_ she said vehemently. _"You can't fix everything."_

"_I should be able to help my friends,"_ Adam said stubbornly.

"_Adam, that is one of your most precious traits, your desire to help others. But right now you need to let your friends help you, and not worry so much about the rest of us." _

"_I am who I am, Sorceress. I don't know how not to worry about everyone."_

"_Maybe your new counselor can help you with that."_

Adam paused. _"You know about Mekanek?"_ he asked, startled.

"_I heard him telling Duncan that he knew the secret. I've had a long talk with him."_

"_I was afraid you'd want to erase his memory or something like that, but I really think I need his help. My father wants me to talk, and there are so many things I can't tell him."_

"_And you don't want to talk to Duncan."_

Feeling a little disloyal, Adam started to defend his mentor. _"Duncan doesn't have time to talk to me about my problems, he's –"_

"_We've both made some serious mistakes. And in many ways, Duncan is very much like a father to you, which makes it more difficult to talk to him freely."_

Adam didn't know what to think. He wished that things could be simple again, but his emotions were roiling and contradictory. On top of that, he was beginning to feel an odd difficulty in thinking, as if he were getting drowsy. With his eyes closed, it was hard to fight sleep off.

"_My boy, I think you need to make your cover story for this conversation a reality. Take a nap and get some rest. You'll feel better for it."_

"_Okay," _Adam said. _"Either that or I'll wake up with a headache and my eyes all gummy."_

There was a chuckle in her voice when she said, _"Sleep, Adam."_ He obeyed without another thought.


	17. The Conspiracy

**Chapter 17 – The Conspiracy**

Randor walked diffidently into Marlena's solar. She was alone at the moment, having sent her usual attending ladies away. This was unusual, she was generally surrounded by ladies of the court. He was just as glad, though. He hated the way they looked at him when she dismissed them because he had come to speak with her. Between the furtive glances and the knowing looks, he wanted to tell them all to keep their rude minds to themselves.

Marlena looked up from the papers she was going over. "Good morning," she said, sounding a bit sharp. "I hope you've had a better morning than I have."

He looked more closely at her and saw that her lips were taut with emotion. Her movements as she wrote notes and sorted papers resembled tightly controlled acts of violence. He walked over and sat down across from her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Gossip," she said shortly. For a moment he was afraid he was going to have to press harder. "I've been answering questions all morning, stupid ones born of rumors spread by people with petty minds and too little to occupy them."

"If you know who, I could find things to occupy them," he said. "Unpleasant things. I'll invent them if I have to."

She gave him a wry look. "So, what have you been doing this morning?"

"I went to see Adam, who took one look at me and informed me that he'd punch me if I apologized again."

A smile brightened her face. "I don't see any signs of a blow on your face, so I'll assume that you didn't, in fact, apologize."

Randor shook his head. "We had breakfast, and we talked for awhile about how hard he's been hiding himself from everyone. He tried to tell me that it wasn't my fault that I hadn't noticed . . . anything, because he was hiding it."

"He doesn't want you to feel guilty," she said.

He nodded. "Got it in one, but I . . ." He grimaced and rose, pacing over to the window to look out. "I can't help thinking that I deserve a little guilt at the moment." She didn't demur at all and he sighed. "Last night, before you came, before . . ." He didn't want to repeat it, to remind her of the horrible thing he'd said about their son. She nodded, saving him from it. "He told me what his life has been like as the son of a king at court. I had no idea . . . and I must have been blind to miss it."

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He turned back to face her. "He says that there are fifty-three unattached women of marriageable age in the court, and that all but a few of them are after him."

His wife's eyes crinkled slightly. "Sit down, Randor. You're looming." He did and she went on. "I think that might be a small exaggeration. Not all of those fifty-three are of marriageable age in my opinion, whatever they may think of themselves."

"Well, I think what they think is the relevant point, Marlena," Randor said. "Because he's not complaining that he thinks we might marry him to one of them, but that he has to balance all the ladies who think they have a chance with him very carefully."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I can see that."

"It sounds rather as if they're all keeping score somehow, and jockeying to see who can win the next round."

"They are, dear," Marlena said. "Most of it will stop when he's married."

"Most of it?" Randor asked incredulously. "Surely all of it will stop."

"There will be women vying for the post of royal mistress, though I don't doubt Adam will be as amenable to such propositions as you were."

"No one's made any such propositions," Randor expostulated, appalled by the suggestion.

Marlena blinked. "They most certainly have, my dear," she said slowly, an odd look in her eyes. "And I thought you had the most excellent response . . . pretending not to recognize it."

"Pretending?" Randor was speechless, not at all a common state of affairs. He flushed as that word occurred to him.

"Yes, dear." She set her paperwork aside and gazed earnestly at him. "I never dreamed you didn't know. Elders preserve you, Randor, you're such an innocent."

"I am not –" he started, but, flushing even more hotly, he broke off.

She stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand under his chin to lift his eyes to hers. "Randor, it's still happening." His jaw dropped, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. "I thought you knew or I would have drawn it to your attention. And here I thought you were handling it so smoothly."

Randor shook his head uncomfortably. He didn't want to talk about this just now. He didn't even want to think about it. As it was already, he was going to be examining every word every woman at court said to him for the next year. "Well, another thing that concerns me, Adam says there are a pair of older women, widows, who are making a game of totting up just how many young men they can . . ." He flushed again, unable to think of an appropriate word.

"Ah, yes, them," Marlena said.

"Adam called them 'the dragons.'"

Marlena chuckled, but her eyes were serious. "They largely confine their attentions to young men who are willing and eager to participate, but they have, on occasion, both focused their interest on some shy but handsome boy and it gets rather ugly at that point, because the boy is merely a pawn in their game."

"It's got to stop," Randor said firmly. "Adam said they've both made overtures to him, one of them when he was just fifteen."

"What?" she said, half rising, her eyes flashing angrily. "I didn't –"

"He told me he had avoided them," Randor said. "From the way he was talking, I don't believe he's – I gather he hasn't availed himself of any of the willing ladies."

"You mean he's a virgin?"

"I didn't say that," Randor replied. "I don't know if he's found someone in town who is discreet."

"I don't think so," she said. "But he hasn't really talked to me in a long while."

"In any case, I really think something needs to be done about these two women. They can be doing nothing good for the moral fiber of the young men they . . . snare." He grimaced. "Adam kept using hunting metaphors, and now I'm doing it. I hate it when people talk that way." Shaking his head, he said, "I found it distasteful in my fellow soldiers, though Adam has a point about these two old biddies. At least they don't create a risk of pregnancy."

"No, that is a mercy," Marlena agreed. "But if one of them . . . when he was fifteen? Did he say what happened?"

"No, just that his innocence protected him."

"Then he's lucky they didn't try something more direct," she said. "I've heard they can be quite insistent on occasion."

"That's it!" Randor said angrily. "Which are they?"

"Ladies Duida and Livia," she said.

Randor considered the pair. "They contribute nothing of consequence to the court. I'm sending them home."

Marlena knit her brows. "That might be a little premature. I'll have a little talk with them and see if I can get them to –"

He shook his head. "No, I'll talk to them. That way they know it's coming straight from the top. Gives them less wiggle room if they decide to misbehave again. No complaining that they thought it was only a suggestion or any of that sort of nonsense." She nodded her agreement, and they were both silent for a few moments. She returned to work after a moment, and the only sound in the room was the shuffling of her papers. His thoughts drifted away from the predators and back towards the problem at hand. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Why aren't you yelling at me?"

She looked up, seeming distracted. "What?"

"I thought you'd yell at me the first opportunity you got after hearing what I said."

She was silent for a few moments, then she looked up again. "I don't see how it would help, Randor," she said. "You've already realized that . . ." She shook her head. "Why did you say something like that, Randor?"

He grimaced. "I was angry, I needed to vent."

"Who were you 'venting' to?" she asked. "And where were you when you had this conversation?"

"Stratos," he said. "He is utterly discreet, he helps me to calm down."

"But where were you talking that Adam could overhear you?"

"A parlor. I thought the door was closed."

"It may have been, Randor. If you walk through the gardens on a summer evening, you can hear the conversations in most of the parlors. By the Elders, Randor, anyone could have heard you! How many courtiers have heard you speaking that way of Adam, and have been treating him accordingly?"

Randor shook his head. "I hadn't considered that," he said miserably. "Things are going to change. They have to." Tears began to fill his eyes, and he scrubbed at them with the heel of his hand. "I can't believe I've done this to my son."

Marlena was up and around behind him in a flash, putting her arms about him. "You didn't do it alone, Randor. You had lots of help. There are a lot of us who missed the signs, me included. I may not have said dreadful things, but I stood idly by while my son suffered and didn't even notice."

"But it was what I said that tore it, you heard him," Randor said, unable to hold back his tears. He felt hot moisture on his neck and knew that Marlena was crying, too. "I said something that sent my son into his bedroom to drink himself drunk in the dark with a dagger."

"It didn't happen, Randor, don't think about it," she said.

"How can I not? My son thought I hated him, he thought I despised him." Randor's whole body shuddered. "He still thinks it. What can I possibly do to make up for that?" he asked desperately. "Now he's so fragile." He turned and met her eyes. "He said today that he didn't want me to act as if I care if I don't." Her eyes grew troubled. "Act as if I care?" he repeated miserably. "I must have done dreadful things to make him feel that way."

"The past is behind us, and we can't change it," Marlena said. "I know that doesn't help, but it's a fact. We've got to focus on the future."

"It's so difficult," Randor said, his voice growing rough as he spoke. "I feel so wretched, and I want to apologize, but I know that doesn't really help anything. An apology is only words and what's needed now are actions." He gulped, his tumultuous emotions surging beyond his control. When he could speak again, he said, "I can't do this on him. Marlena, I'm sorry, but –"

She patted his hair. "Never mind, love, let it out."

* * *

Adam's eyes felt gummy and his head ached slightly, sure signs of a midday nap. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and wondered who was in the room with him. He could hear a pen scratching on paper, which suggested that it wasn't one of the guards, though they might be present as well. His mother would probably be doing needlework rather than writing, and Teela . . . who knew what Teela might do these days. He wasn't even going to try to predict her.

The way he was facing, he didn't have to turn to look at the table, just open his eyes. Bright sunlight filled the room, blinding him briefly as he squinted at the table. His father was sitting there gazing intently at something, then bending to his paper again to write. Adam watched him curiously. His eyes were shadowed by his hair, but his mouth was set in a dour line. Whatever business he was working on was clearly not making him happy. Adam wondered what it was.

He couldn't ask. The last few times he'd asked about the affairs of the kingdom, his father had made some remark about being surprised that he cared and hadn't answered. Adam didn't want to shatter the fragile truce they'd built with an ill timed question. He still didn't trust it, but he could at least pretend that his father gave a damn. _It will hurt that much more when he goes back to how he was._ Adam tried to ignore the cynical voice in his head. That bridge would be crossed if it came.

Abruptly, Randor threw down his pen, mouthing a rude phrase that Adam had never heard him say aloud. He picked up his paper and the document he'd been working on and went to the door. Adam expected him to leave, but he just paused there briefly. He heard a murmur of voices in which he thought he heard the word 'Jenkins' and then his father came back into the room.

He shut his eyes hastily as the king approached the bed. To his utter astonishment, he felt a hand brush his hair. Randor sighed and stroked his hair again. Very quietly, he said, "Where did I go wrong? When did I stop listening to you?" Adam stayed still, breathing evenly, desperate that his father not realize that he was awake. The king heaved another sigh and moved away from the bed, and Adam heard the chair creak slightly as his father lowed himself into it.

The hollow place in his gut was becoming insistent. Adam rolled over onto his back and looked at the ceiling. "Son?"

"Yes, Father?" Adam muttered, leaning up on his elbows, feigning more sleepiness than he felt.

"Would you like some lunch?"

"Sure," Adam said, sitting up and watching his father go back to the door. "How long have you been here?"

"Some hours," Randor said, walking over and sitting down beside the bed. "I came for lunch, but you were asleep, so Dorgan and I decided to let you sleep. Your mother's been by twice, Teela in tow. I'm not sure what they're doing, but they did bring flowers."

Adam followed his gesture and saw that two enormous vases of yellow and pink blooms stood on the window sill. They brightened up the room considerably. "Teela brought me flowers?" he asked, feeling a little stunned. It somehow didn't sound like her.

"And why not?"

Shrugging, Adam climbed out of bed and headed for the privy. As he'd expected, his father rose and followed him. The privy trip passed in embarrassed silence on both sides. When they returned to the bedroom, Adam saw that a lunch tray had been brought in for him. Pasta and roasted vegetable in a creamy sauce. It smelled great, but despite his hunger, Adam didn't seem to be able to muster much energy to eat. Under his father's eagle eye, though, it was impossible to pick at the food. Particularly not when he threatened to fetch Dorgan and a pitcher of glop.

"Are we planning to have Reisha play in here?" Adam asked, looking around the room.

"Actually, I believe your mother is negotiating with Dorgan to move you to the nearest parlor."

"That would be my preference," Adam said. "If she sees me in the infirmary . . . well, she writes songs. The last thing we need is for her to write about the dying prince or something of that nature."

"You don't really look like you're dying," his father said judiciously.

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yes, but dying would sound a great deal more dramatic and songworthy than hypertension. Still, that aside, having her come to me in the infirmary would give rise to a great many rumors that I think we'd do better to avoid than to quash."

"You're right, Adam," his father said. "I do believe that's your mother's reasoning as well."

"Is it swaying Dorgan?"

Randor shrugged. "You know Dorgan."

"Well, good," Adam said. When his father gave him a puzzled look, Adam grimaced. "If he wasn't arguing, I'd be worried that there was something serious wrong."

"I'll grant you that." Adam returned to his food, and neither of them spoke for several minutes. After awhile, though, he noticed his father looking at him thoughtfully.

"What is it, Father?" he asked finally.

"What?" Randor blinked a few times, seeming startled, then said, "Sorry, son, I was just . . . I was just remembering things. Do you remember that rainy day when we played hide-and-seek in the guest wing with all the other children?"

Adam cast his mind back. "You mean when the housekeeper threatened to spank us all, you included, for the mess of mud we made in the halls?"

His father let out a laugh. "I'd forgotten that," he said. "But yes, that's when I meant."

Adam sighed, thinking back on simpler times. "All the other kids were quite impressed that my father was willing to play with us, and that the housekeeper had the right to spank the king."

"Really?"

"Yes, and Raon informed them all with confidence that the only one who outranked the housekeeper was the queen." Adam blinked. "I have no idea how old I was, but Raon seemed a great deal older, and very tall."

"You were seven, so he was ten, and he'd just had a growth spurt." His father reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry I stopped being that father to you, Adam. I wish I knew how and when things changed, but –"

Adam shook his head. "Father, please don't. There's no point. Things change. That's just how the world works."

"Adam, change doesn't –"

The door opened and Jonis came in to take his blood pressure. The king rose to make way for the man and Adam gave him his arm. "Did you do this while I was asleep?" he asked.

"I did, sir," said Jonis. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

"I didn't even notice," Adam replied.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jonis said. He made his notes and left the room.

Adam drew his knees up to his chest and looked over at his father. "Change doesn't what?" he asked.

Randor turned, his eyes somber. "Our choices influence how our lives change," he said. "I've made some very poor choices, but that doesn't mean that things can't change for the better now that I've realized that."

"Father –"

"Give it a chance, Adam." Randor walked back over and sat down.

"I am," Adam said, biting his lip in an effort to keep from crying. "But –"

"No buts," his father said, smiling with certainty. "We're going to change things together."

Adam couldn't protest in the face of his father's enthusiasm. But he couldn't help thinking that the next time he disappeared to change into He-Man, it would all crash back down into an even lower pit of despair.

* * *

Teela lifted another tapestry from the pile and pulled the muslin cover down enough to show the beautiful muted colors. "Your highness, do you recognize this one?" she asked.

Marlena walked over and looked at the fabric. She slipped the muslin cover down about a foot further and said, "I do, and we definitely want this one." Teela nodded, pulled the cover back over the woven wool and placed it on the small pile of chosen tapestries. The pile of rejections was much larger. "Help me with this one, would you?" the queen asked. "If it's the one I think it is . . ." She was tugging on the end, trying to pull it out of the middle of a stack. Teela hastily shifted most of the ones above it, preferring to avoid an avalanche of dusty fabric. Marlena pulled out her prize and untied the heavy muslin bag that it had been placed in, sliding it down and revealing rich jewel tones.

Teela leaned closer. The shapes were very familiar, but the colors seemed too bright. "Is that . . . it can't be . . ."

"It hung in the nursery when you were children."

"But that one was so faded and this is so bright."

"It's the back, Teela," Marlena said with a smile.

Teela blinked and then laughed, amused by her own failure to recognize this obvious fact. "Adam will love it," she said.

Marlena nodded, drawing the cover up again and tying it off. "I think that should be enough," she said judiciously, looking at the fruits of their labors as Teela placed the last tapestry on their pile.

"Your highness!" called Logran from the other side of the attic space.

"Yes?"  
"I believe I've found it," he called, and he emerged into plain view. Teela had to stifle a giggle. The usually solemn and dignified servitor had cobwebs in his hair and a line of dust along one cheek. He maintained his profound aura of dignity somehow, which is why Teela strove not to laugh at him. In his hands he held a large oval of polished steel.

"Perfect, Logran," the queen said. "Take it down to the infirmary, please."

"Of course, your highness," Logran said and left the attic. "I'll send someone to collect the tapestries for you as well."

Teela quickly repiled the ones they didn't want so that the servants wouldn't have any trouble identifiying the ones that they did want, then followed the queen downstairs. She was wearing pants and a tunic, one of the outfits that the queen had encouraged her to buy. The bill from the clothiers had come to an astonishing amount. Having worn uniforms all her adult years, Teela had never had any idea how much the garments worn by the women around her cost. Fortunately, Teela had likewise never spent her salary on much, so she had enough money to pay for a sudden increase in her wardrobe.

"Is there anything else we need to find?" she asked.

"No, my dear," the queen said. "I have a couple of duties to see to, but if you want to go see Adam, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't."

Teela grimaced. "His father is with him. I don't want to . . ." She shrugged. "I know he needs time with him, too."

"And you don't want to be there at the same time?" the queen asked gently.

Teela shook her head. "I can't be rational about . . . about things."

Marlena nodded. "I think it's very wise of you to –"

Teela's com unit beeped. She lifted it to her ear and said, "Captain Teela."

"There is an attack underway on Pelivali," said the sergeant on duty in the communications center. "Ram-Man is calling for aid."

"On my way," Teela said, then tucked her com unit into her belt holster. "Your highness –"

"Go," the queen said, though she looked a little uneasy. "Please, Teela, be careful."

Teela nodded and hurried down to the hangar. She saw her father and Roboto take off as she arrived. She grabbed her weapons and leapt aboard a sky sled and followed. Buzz Off flew up beside her and they headed at full speed to Pelivali.

Nearly all of Skeletor's crew was at the small fishing village, and Teela couldn't think of a really good excuse for their attack. The village had no strategic importance, no historical importance, and housed no famous artifacts that anyone had ever heard of. What their goal could be was beyond her. Skeletor wasn't present, which suggested something to her mind, but the battle was upon her before she could reason it out.

Her father had already engaged Merman, but Clawful was raging unchecked up the center street. She landed her skysled between two houses and flipped out to land in front of him. He gave her no real notice, just reaching out to fling her aside, clearly mistaking her for a villager. When his claw was met with a blow from her staff, his eyes widened and he stared at her in a moment of astonishment that she took swift advantage of, knocking him unconscious with a blow to the head.

She ran on and saw that Ram-Man was fighting Whiplash and faltering. He'd clearly been overwhelmed at the start of this encounter, and though he was still on his feet, he was also injured and losing strength. Teela sprinted towards them, then when she was within range, she planted her staff in the ground and vaulted over a garden fence and kicked the reptilian villain in the head.

"Teela!" exclaimed Ram-Man. "Behind you!"

Teela whirled, swinging her staff out and catching Tri-Klops on the shoulder. The blind warrior leaned sideways and shot a stunning bolt at Ram-Man who dropped with a thud. Teela retaliated by circling her staff around and sending a blow towards his head. Something powerful slammed into her hands, causing to the staff to spin off. Tri-Klops ducked and leaped towards her.

"Skeletor!" cried Stratos from above and to her right.

Teela jumped backwards to avoid Tri-Klops and slammed unexpectedly into a body directly behind her. Arms like steel bands closed around her torso. She threw her head back to try and knock her captor out, but the impact wasn't against flesh over bone, it was against bone. She blinked down at the blue arms and the havoc staff held he held negligently in one hand. Skeletor began to laugh maniacally as he lifted her feet off the ground.

"Man-at-Arms!" he called as she struggled unavailingly against him. She kicked back, but though Skeletor grunted, his grip on her did not slacken. She heard the sounds of battle around her falter to a stop. "Man-at-Arms, tell He-Man that unless he presents himself to me, unarmed and without that irritating Battlecat, I will give Teela to Beastman."

As her struggles failed to win her freedom, she began to feel fear, but not for herself. She could handle herself, but what would her capture do to Adam? Tri-Klops was looking at her intently and she kicked him in the chest. Then Skeletor took several steps backwards and she felt them began to rise off the ground. She looked down as best she could and saw that they were on one of his damned platforms. A griffin dropped down for Tri-Klops, and the unconscious forms of Whiplash and Clawful were snatched up by griffins. She saw her father staring in horror at her as Merman ran unhindered back out into the waves.

Skeletor seemed to grow more confident in her as they rose into the sky, and his grip slackened. Seeing her chance, she went limp, as though defeated, and his arms relaxed further. At that moment, she lunged forward off the platform, ripping herself out of Skeletor's grasp, and fell like a stone towards the ground. Automatically, she reached for her hoverboard, but she hadn't worn that belt. She let out a shout for help, and both Buzz Off and Stratos came winging up, one beneath the other. Stratos made the actual catch, and she dragged him down about ten feet with her weight and velocity. A griffin dove after them, but Buzz Off and Sy-Klone flew at it and attacked, forcing it to veer off. Stratos landed her safely on the ground close enough to her father for him to run up and seize her in a fierce hug.

"Don't scare me like that!" he said fervently.

"We can't tell Adam!" she replied just as fervently.

He pulled away and stared at her in surprise. "Teela, what are you –"

"He'll freak!" she said. "In his current condition . . . I can't let that happen."

"He has to know, Teela," he said stubbornly.

Teela jutted her chin at him. "No! Absolutely not!"

"We'll let Dorgan decide," he replied firmly.

Teela silently vowed to get back to Dorgan first. To her surprise, she was aided in this by no less a person than her father. The reason behind his move, however, was quelling to her spirits. Like all the others, she always helped in the clean up after the battle was over, not leaving it to the frightened villagers. It was bad enough they'd been used as pawns by Skeletor, it would be a terrible thing to leave them to clean up the mess by themselves.

This time, before she had done more than pick up a few bits of debris and start a pile, she found her father at her side with both Stratos and Buzz Off. "Teela, Stratos and Buzz Off are going to escort you back to the palace."

"But Father, I need –"

"To remain protected at the palace," he said in a loud voice, cutting her off. When she stared at him in shock, he took a step towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You made a good point earlier about Adam's reaction to your being in danger. Please, Teela, go."

She nodded wordlessly and headed to her skysled, accompanied by the two flying masters. They flew on either side of her all the way back to the palace and Stratos accompanied her inside. Then he bowed and hurried off to return to the scene of the battle.

* * *

Evil-Lyn, having been behind Skeletor at the time of the girl's leap from the battle platform, was the only one of those present who did not spend the hour after their return to Snake Mountain being castigated for idiocy, bumbling and incompetence. She listened to all the shouting and the extreme language and contemplated the evidence before her. It was quite clear that something unusual was going on.

During all the covert observation she and the others had done of the palace over the years, none of them had ever caught Teela out of uniform except when she was working out. Yet on this occasion she had been wearing a pair of well cut trousers and a form fitting shirt with cutwork sleeves and neckline. It piqued her curiosity.

A woman seldom changed her dress so significantly unless there was a man involved, and Teela had shown signs in the past of a softer feeling towards the muscle-bound hero of Eternia. She wondered whether any of the others had noticed anything. She glanced around at them. Frankly, she thought not. They were all so terribly male as to be nearly handicapped.

When Skeletor had dismissed them, she contrived to fall in beside Tri-Klops, who gave her a sour look. They were always irritated with her when she escaped the tongue-lashings. "What do you want?" he asked, his gravelly voice grating on her ears.

"Access to doomseeker surveillance images for the last several months," she replied.

He gazed at her for several moments, then said, "You can't control them."

"I know, that's why I'm asking you."

"You do realize that means that I will have to be there."

"I do," she replied, keeping her temper with an effort. "I have a theory I want to test. Bring one to my lab if you're willing, if not, I'll see you later."

"I'm coming," he said. "Don't be so touchy." He summoned the nearest one with a gesture. "What's this theory?"

"Watch what I look at and see if you can come up with anything," she said with a smile. He grimaced at her and followed her to her lab. She directed him to show her images of Captain Teela from a month ago.

"I wondered what you were going to think of that," Tri-Klops remarked as they looked at the girl in her uniform. "Women always seem to attach such importance to clothing."

She gave him a dry look but didn't speak. They skipped around through several days till they came to a battle, which Evil-Lyn watched with intense interest. He-Man showed up and fought Skeletor to a standstill, as was usually the case. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, it was this battle which had led to Skeletor's current plan to get hold of the brute and neutralize him. Her closest scrutiny was saved for when the battle was over. She fully expected to see some sign of Teela mooning over the hero of Grayskull, but once the battle was over, she rushed away.

"Do you have something that follows her?"

"I have something on the palace at all times, and from the direction of her flight, I'd guess that's where she was going." He spoke in a low voice to the doomseeker and it shifted to a view of the palace. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough detail to see exactly what she was doing. "Wait," he said. "I've got a couple of small cameras inside the palace that I placed the last time we were inside."

Remembering that battle, she blinked. "How did you find time . . ."

"We all have our secrets," he said with a grim smile, then spoke again to his doomseeker. The images began to follow the girl through the palace, and what they revealed was intriguing to say the least. "What is she doing?" Tri-Klops demanded.

Evil-Lyn shrugged. If he couldn't figure it out on his own, it wasn't her problem. She could see, however, that Teela was attempting to catch the young prince alone, and her expression when she saw him was much more charitable than Evil-Lyn had ever seen it. "How many of those things did you have with you?" she asked. "And how are they hidden?"

"I can state for a fact that the palace cleaners pay very little attention to the wall at ceiling level," Tri-Klops said sardonically, "or they'd have found them by now."

Evil-Lyn nodded, unwillingly impressed. Over the next several hours, she discovered that her theory was, in part, correct, she just had the wrong target for the young woman's affections.

"So, what is it you were looking for?" Tri-Klops asked.

Evil-Lyn gave him a dubious look. Was he serious? Or was he playing with her? "What do you think?" she asked archly.

"I think the next queen of Eternia will be a redhead."

"Presuming he lives that long," Evil-Lyn said. "From the worried looks on people's faces as they tromp in and out of that place, I'd guess that things are more serious than they've announced."

"And the metal-neck seems to be in it up to his teeth," Tri-Klops muttered. "He's not a medic, so what's he doing in there for so long? He kicked the . . ." His voice trailed off and his jaw dropped.

Evil-Lyn stared at the images that had been projected, puzzled. Nothing like that was visible. And then the images shifted again, and she saw Mekanek entering the prince's room in the infirmary. Tri-Klops was shaking his head, and with a sharp word, he halted the images. "Why did you do that?" she demanded. "What aren't you showing me?"

He turned to look at her. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, his voice solemn. She stared at him. "This is the kind of knowledge you can't go back from."

"Don't be ridiculous. You agreed to help me, so don't –"

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, cutting in on her.

"Yes!" she snapped.

"Fine, then you'll have to come with me." She opned her mouth to object. "This is not the kind of thing I'm saying inside Snake Mountain. Come with me, or don't."


	18. Secrets & Lies

**Chapter 18 – Secrets & Lies**

Teela paced in Dorgan's office. The decision on what to tell Adam about the fight had been deferred by the simple fact that Adam was asleep. The door to the office opened and the king came in. "Marlena said there was an issue that needed to be decided," he said, glancing at Teela. "Where's Dorgan?"

She glared at the king. "Looking in on Ivan, your highness. He should be back momentarily."

The king nodded and took a seat. "Was anyone injured in the fight with Skeletor?"

"Ram-Man," she said. "He's been sent back to his quarters, and isn't supposed to be too active for a few days."

"Well, that's the longest sentence you've spoken to me in weeks," the king said. "Sit down, Teela, it will do you no good to wear yourself out by pacing."

"I can't sit still," she replied irritably. "Was Adam still asleep when you were in there?"

"He was." Randor sighed deeply, and she sensed that he was about to say something more. He turned and looked up at her. "Teela, I think I'm going to have to ask you to stop going out to fight." Teela raised her eyebrows in surprise. She'd come to the same conclusion herself, but she was surprised to hear the king say so. "It's not a reflection on your abilities – I have every confidence in your skills – but even the best warrior is injured from time to time, and I don't think Adam is up to dealing with you being in danger at this time."

She blinked at him. "That would mean you too," she said.

To her surprise, he nodded. "It would. And the queen. I wish it could include your father, but I don't think it can."

"Someone has to fight," she said. "And Adam cares about everyone."

"True enough," the king said with a smile.

The door opened and Dorgan came in. "Ah, your highness, good. Has Teela told you?"

"Told me what?" he asked, and Teela found herself flushing. Here they'd been talking about why she shouldn't go out to battle any longer, and she hadn't even said anything about the day's events.

"I've had a powerful demonstration of why I should probably resign my commission," Teela said, and the king's jaw dropped. His eyes surveyed her minutely, as though looking for injuries. She raised her hands to fend him off. "I'm not hurt, but Skeletor nearly succeeded in getting away with me as a prisoner. If he hadn't gotten overconfident, I might not have gotten away."

"By the Ancients!" he exclaimed. "But you're all right?"

"I am, but I don't think Adam should be told. My father disagrees."

"And the queen is of two minds," Dorgan said. "I asked her to send you here so that we can discuss it."

"I think that lying to him might be the worst thing we could do right now," Randor said. "I understand why you don't want to tell him, Teela," he said, forestalling her protests. "But he's not altogether sure he trusts either of us right now. If we lie to him, it's going to make that worse."

"I'm afraid I agree," Dorgan said. "I think we tell him that you've decided to resign, then we tell him that you were nearly captured."

The king shook his head. "Let's not throw too much at him at once. Teela's taking an extended leave of absence from her post. She hasn't ever taken any time off, and her king insists."

Teela blinked at him for a moment, then said, "Do you think he'll object to my resigning?"

"I do," the king said. "But I also think he'd be glad on a level he won't admit to and he'll feel guilty. Let's give it to him in pieces."

"If you say so," Teela said uncertainly.

The king put his hands on her shoulders. "Teela, he won't feel guilty about me putting you on a leave of absence. He would about you resigning to spend more time with him. That's all I'm thinking of."

She stared at him. "You really do care, don't you?" she asked, then realized abruptly what a tactless and bitchy question that was. "I mean . . . I didn't . . . I don't . . ."

"You did and you do," he corrected gently, and Teela lowered her eyes, flushing. "And I don't blame you," he added, startling her into meeting his gaze again. "However, I do care, a great deal, and I'm not going to let things get to such a pass again."

Teela bit her lip. "I was a harridan and a shrew," she said. "So I've got no call to judge you, and I'm not ever going to let things get that bad again either."

The king nodded, smiling. "Agreed. Now, why don't we go in and wait for Adam to wake up."

Teela smiled and accompanied him back to Adam's room, feeling more akin to him than she had since she'd come to her own epiphany. She hoped, for Adam's sake, that the peace between them would last.

* * *

Evil-Lyn stared at Tri-Klops for several long moments in utter and complete shock, but during her silence she could feel a spell snapping and breaking away from her conscious mind and allowing logical conclusions to fall into place.

"Prince Adam is He-Man?" she said experimentally, and it felt right. All the evidence was there, but some kind of magical barrier had protected the information from being discovered. "How droll."

"I doubt he finds it funny," Tri-Klops observed.

"Probably not, but the king has been saying such dreadful things about his heir, and if he knew the truth, he would be bursting with pride."

"No doubt."

"I take it you don't plan to share this little tidbit with Skeletor," she said archly.

"I see little point in it," he replied. "First of all, even with the evidence, I doubt he'd believe me. Secondly, I doubt he could do anything with the information. You have to admit, he's never carried an intelligent plan through to fruition . . . not since his transformation."

She raised an eyebrow. "And you trust that I won't carry word to him?" she asked. "Of this, or of your decision not to share it with him?"

"You don't want Skeletor to win," he said, and Evil-Lyn's eyes widened in fury. "Don't get angry with me," he added laconically. "I've seen you watch him fail over and over again, and I've seen the looks on your face when you thought he might succeed. I'm no one's fool, Evil-Lyn." His lips tightened and he looked away. "Not now."

"So, what do you plan to do with this information?" she asked irritably.

"I plan to destroy the recordings and see what I can do to drop the hint to Man-at-Arms that these cameras exist, so that they can't be used again."

"You can leave that to me," she said. "Give me an image of one of the rooms where you've got a camera." He ordered his doomseeker appropriately and she concentrated on the room. A moment later, the image flared and dissipated.

"What did you do?"

"That camera just had a spectacular malfunction, sure to catch attention and direct it towards the others."

"Yes, but then they'll know we know," Tri-Klops said urgently. "If they find the camera in the prince's sickroom, they'll know."

Evil-Lyn blinked. "Is there something you can do about that?" she asked.

"Not really," he muttered. "Anything I could do would probably draw attention to the bloody thing, and that's the opposite of what we want."

"Well, it will take a day or two for them to find the others now that the first one has gone bad. I'll give it some thought."

"What about the other thing?" Tri-Klops asked.

"What other thing?"

"The fact that Prince Adam is He-Man?" Tri-Klops demanded irritably, then hunched as if fearful that his voice would carry to Snake Mountain.

"Nothing," Evil-Lyn said firmly. "For now we try to forget we even know it. Other than that, we wait and see what use might be made of it in the future, for our own benefit."

He nodded. "Very well." When she didn't immediately move to leave, he began to shift uneasily, then climbed about his own vehicle and flew away. Evil-Lyn watched him go, a small smile playing on her lips. They now each had a hold on the other, but he was right. Skeletor didn't need this information, he wouldn't know how to use it.

She'd have to come up with a way to put the knowledge to good use.


	19. Expectations

**Chapter 19 – Expectations**

Adam awoke to the uncomfortable awareness of a heavy weight on his full bladder. He blinked and gave Cringer a hard shove. The huge green cat murped unhappily, but Adam shoved again and rolled off the bed out from under him.

"Adam, are you okay?" his mother asked.

"Nature calls," he muttered. He looked over at Felinar who nodded and followed him into the privy. He came out a few moments later to find his mother knitting quietly. He looked at the wall behind her and around the room with mild surprise at the industry his decorators had shown while he slept. There were tapestries on all the walls, making the barren room a warmer, more colorful place. He walked over to the one that hung opposite his bed. Reaching out with a gentle hand he smoothed the fabric. "Good old Phylas and Renobin," he said. "It's been years." He smiled. "We used to enact this when we were little." He turned to Felinar. "Raon would be the dastardly villain Crebin, Teela would be a surprisingly martial Phylas, and I would be Renobin, rescuing her against all odds." He grinned at the memory. "Though occasionally she'd rescue me if Crebin got too enthusiastic."

Felinar grinned back. "I can imagine. It must have been great fun."

Adam nodded. At that moment, the door to the room opened and Jonis came in with his wretched blood pressure device. Adam sighed and went to sit down on the bed again, allowing Jonis to have his way. The medic did his little test, then made a note on Adam's chart and left again.

"I'm getting really tired of that," he said.

"I know," his mother said.

"You haven't been here all day, have you?" he asked suddenly. "Mom, you've got to get out more. You can't mew yourself up here like this."

"I've just been here for a few hours, love," she said softly. "Don't worry. I'm getting enough fresh air and sunlight. Which reminds me . . ." She stood up and walked over to the window. "I didn't want to open these while you were asleep, but _you _need some fresh air and sunlight too." So saying, she pulled the curtains back with a flourish. Sunlight flooded the room, brightening everything. She threw open a window and a breeze wafted in, filling the room with the scent of roses.

He smiled at the light and fresh air, but then he leaned forward, peering out into the infirmary garden. "I don't want half the palace peering in, Mother," he said with a grimace.

"Duncan has solved that problem," she said. "He came up with a screen that blocks the view of those outside, but that lets sunlight and air through."

Gratitude mingled oddly with annoyance in Adam's spirit. Rightly or wrongly, at the moment, anything Duncan did irritated him beyond reason. He took a deep breath and said, "Remind me to thank him later." He thought it came out without emotional overtones, but evidently he was mistaken.

His mother leaned towards him. "Adam, tell me, why are you so angry at Duncan?"

Unprepared for the question, he didn't know what to say. He looked out the window. "I'm not angry at Duncan, Mother," he replied unevenly.

"Adam, don't try to hide it," she said with gentle pressure. "That's half your problem, trying to hide your emotions. If you're angry, be angry."

"Mother, I'm not angry," Adam said, and this time his voice was under better control. He felt safe turning towards her and meeting her eyes. "Why would I be angry with Duncan? He's been my staunch supporter for all these years." He blinked and turned away from her surprised expression. The bitterness in his voice surprised even him. "Mother, please, I don't want to talk about it."

She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand. "I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to push."

Adam shook his head. "It's okay, I just don't want to talk about it."

"I'm just concerned that you may need to talk about it."

"I'm already talking to Mekanek about it," he said.

Her expression cleared. "Good. I trust his judgment." She stroked Adam's cheek with a worried smile. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"I love you, too, Mother," Adam said.

There was a knock on the door and Felinar opened it. Adam sat up with a smile when Teela and his father came in, but their sober looks worried him. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"There was an attack on Pelivali," his father said, walking over to the bed. "Skeletor was beaten off with no deaths and relatively few casualties."

"Few?" Adam repeated anxiously. If He-Man had been available, there probably wouldn't have been any. "What few?"

His father sat on the side of the bed and patted his knee. "Don't worry, Adam. No one was badly hurt. Ram-Man was there alone when the attack started, so he sustained a few injuries, and a couple of the villagers had minor hurts. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Teela flushed. "There was one thing out of the ordinary, but I didn't get hurt at all," she said.

Adam sat up straight and then slipped off the bed, going to her and taking her by the shoulders, scanning her for signs of injury. "Are you all right?" he demanded urgently. "What happened? What did those bastards do to you?"

She tried to push him back towards the bed. "I just said I wasn't hurt," she said. "Skeletor tried to grab me, that's all, and I got away from him."

Adam refused to let go of her. He gazed down into her eyes, looking to see whether she was hiding anything from him. If she was trying to protect him. "Tried to grab you, but you got away?" he said suspiciously. "That sounds like he succeeded in grabbing you. What happened?"

Teela put her arms around Adam and squeezed, her cheek pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "I'm fine," she said firmly. "Skeletor surprised me from behind, he grabbed me and started to fly away on one of those stupid platforms of his. I got away from him and everything's fine."

"Teela, everything's not fine!" Adam exclaimed, his emotions gone haywire. He knew Teela could handle herself, he knew she was a better fighter than 'Prince Adam' could ever let on to being, he knew she had been fighting Skeletor and his minions for three years with minimal damage, but that didn't stop him from abruptly acquiring a sense of her fragility. Her frame seemed alarmingly small and frail in his arms, suddenly.

"It is fine, Adam," she said, drawing away and looking earnestly into his eyes. "See, I'm here, I'm not injured, Skeletor didn't get what he wanted. It's fine."

"I can't lose you," he said involuntarily, pulling her close again. He rested his face on the crown of her head. "I can't . . . if I lost you, I don't know what I'd do."

Teela wormed her way closer and said, "It's all right, Adam, I'm going to resign as captain of the guard. I won't be going out anymore."

"But you can't!" Adam exclaimed, pulling away from her again and sitting down so their faces were closer to level. "I know how much you love your job. I wouldn't dream of asking you to quit it."

"You're not," Teela said with a smile. "I'm quitting it of my own free will, and I want to. I want to be with you, and . . ." She broke off, her eyes going wide.

He cut into her sudden rush of incomprehensible babblings with a kiss.

* * *

Slightly stunned, Randor tried to think of some way, or even some reason, to interrupt the two young people, but he knew they'd be terribly embarrassed if he awoke them from their pleasant daze. Of course, they'd be equally embarrassed if they came out of it on their own. Then the infirmary door opened, taking the option out of his hands. The kiss stopped abruptly, but Teela immediately buried her face in Adam's neck, turning a shocking shade of pink.

One of Marlena's ladies came in and whispered in her ear. Randor watched, wondering what was coming up. Marlena's eyes widened, but she smiled, and Randor felt an unexpected tension in shoulders release, and realized that he'd been subconsciously armoring himself against bad news. Marlena nodded and gave a few quiet instructions to the young woman, whose eyes kept detouring to Adam and Teela. Finally, Marlena waved her away and shut the door. She turned to the young couple. Adam had rested his cheek on the top of Teela's head. They looked adorable.

"Well, I think it's time for Teela and I to go, and Adam, what would you like to wear for the concert tonight?"

"Wear?" He blinked. "I suppose I could just wear what I was going to wear to the tavern."

Marlena's face was a study in maternal dismay, and even Teela looked startled. Before either of them could say something that might made Adam dig his heels in, Randor shook his head. "No, no, no, that wouldn't do for a palace engagement. Think about what she'll expect." Adam's eyes had been narrowing, but at this point, he blinked and started nodding. Randor pressed his advantage. "You'd need something more regal, more in keeping with your rank."

Teela nodded decisively. "I'll go choose something," she said.

Marlena's eyes widened. "No, dear, you won't!" Teela had started towards the door. At Marlena's sharp tone, she stopped and turned slowly back, eyes wide with consternation. "You're not married yet. That's the sort of thing married people do."

Teela flushed crimson, but Adam went white. "Married?" he exclaimed blankly. "I never said married. She never said married. No one's getting married."

Randor rolled his eyes, but Teela took a step back towards Adam, worried hurt in her eyes. "You . . . you don't want to marry me?"

Adam stared at her in utter shock. "You don't want to marry me!" he declared unsteadily.

"But I . . . I . . ." She shook her head. "I love you, Adam."

He looked down her, his eyes warming briefly. "I love you, too," he said. "Too much to marry you."

Teela put her hands on her hips and tilted her head in a very familiar way, but the tone of her voice when she spoke was much less harsh than Randor was used to hearing from her towards his son. "That makes no sense."

Adam shrugged. "I love you too much to saddle you with a throne you don't want and early widowhood." In the stunned silence that followed that remark, he went into the bathing room and shut the door. Randor was shocked immobile for a moment, but then hastened to follow him.


	20. An Unexpected Departure

_Author's note: Please forgive the length of time it's taken to post this. I had been waiting for my beta reader to be in the right mood to reread the whole saga so far, but I have given up for the time being. I glanced at the file after looking by chance at a PM from someone asking me to update, and discovered that I'd written a great deal more than I'd remembered. I hadn't thought there was enough to bother posting, but I was mistaken. Rereading it after some months was like __reading it for the first time. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, egotistical as that sounds. I can't apologize for enjoying my own writing._

_Fair warning, however: this is all that's written at this moment. Every word. I hope to get back to this one soon, I know what happens next in general outline, but I have many projects going at once, and there's the ever present problem of Real Life. Nevertheless, this should not be the last posting for 15 months, as it appears the current gap has been. I will publish more sooner than that, I promise._

**Chapter 20**

Teela stared after Adam in absolute shock. "He can't," she said. "Dorgan said he was fine. He can't be dying!"

She felt it as Marlena turned her and pulled her into her arms. "He's going to be fine," the older woman said soothingly. "He's just . . . I don't know what he's on about."

There was enough worry in the queen's tone to add to Teela's apprehension. "I won't let him!" she growled, her voice thick with emotion. "He's not allowed to die!"

"I agree wholeheartedly," the queen said.

The door opened and Dorgan came in. Teela launched herself at him. "Is Adam dying?" she demanded.

"We're all dying," the healer said. "From approximately the age of six."

Teela grabbed his shoulders. "Dorgan, no witty remarks, no games. I mean it. Is he dying?"

Dorgan's eyes widened and he gazed at her. She gazed desperately back. "Teela, calm yourself," he said, gently disentangling himself. "He is in danger, I can't deny it, but I don't understand this sudden panic."

"He won't marry me!" Teela moaned and sank into the chair, burying her face in her hands, her heart aching miserably. She'd wasted three years. Wasted. If he died, she'd always know that they could have had three more happy years if she hadn't been such a shrewish bitch.

She was vaguely aware of Dorgan and the queen talking, but when she heard her name repeated several times, with increasing volume, she looked up. Marlena was gazing intently into her eyes. "Teela, if Adam sees you like this, or hears you, it will upset him."

Teela's heart contracted painfully, and she let out a little squeak of dismay. She stopped her tears instantly. The queen was right. Adam would be worried, and that was the last thing they needed right now. She fished in a pocket for a handkerchief, but Marlena was quicker. Teela took the cotton square and scrubbed at her cheeks.

"Gently, Teela," Marlena said, taking the handkerchief from her and wiping her eyes with a softer touch. "Now, let's go get you ready for the concert. Come on, let's get back to your room."

Teela nodded and let the queen guide her out into the infirmary. Once in public again, she straightened her shoulders and put a good face on it. She had to learn how to keep an even better lid on her emotions if she was going to . . . but Adam didn't want . . .

Teela cut off that train of thought before it went anywhere emotionally distressing.

* * *

"Adam, what was that about?" His father asked.

Adam stripped off his tunic and started the water in the shower. He didn't have anything to say, so he didn't say anything.

"Adam?"

Leaning in, Adam tested the water temperature. It was still too cold. He stripped off his pants and tried to ignore the way his father was looking at him. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.

His father reached out and took his arm. "Son, talk to me. What was that about?"

"Nothing. I just think . . . I . . ." Adam shook his head and tested the water again. "I need to get cleaned up," he said, deciding that cold or not, he was getting into the shower. He stepped in and suppressed his reaction to the lukewarm water, pulling the screen across to separate him from his father and began soaping himself up.

"Adam," his father said in a slightly louder voice. "You can't just say things like that and then expect us to ignore them."

Adam pretended he couldn't hear him, lathering up his hair. When the hell had marriage come into the thing? Marriage was . . . how could he marry anyone in his situation? How could he ever ask someone to depend on him in that intimate, personal way when he couldn't tell them the truth about himself? Besides, he still didn't even know if he was going to live to be king of Eternia. And Teela wouldn't want to be princess, much less queen.

But the thought of being married to Teela, of their joining in that kind of a permanent and public bond, the thought of making babies with her, both the process and the result, thrilled him. He wanted to be with her always, but it wasn't fair to her to ask her to join him in a relationship that would have to be so one-sided. A relationship that would have so much of hardship for her.

He shook his head. It wouldn't work. It couldn't work. And why did his mother seem to favor it so? 'You're not married yet,' she'd said, just as if she expected that event to take place eventually. He rinsed his hair and yanked the screen open. His father was sitting on the bench outside the shower. At this sudden change he jumped to his feet, eyes wide with surprise. Adam grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower.

"Have you and Mother been matchmaking?" Adam demanded abruptly.

His father blinked at him. "No, son, we really haven't seen the need to. We rather thought you and Teela were doing fine on your own."

Caught in the upswing of a tirade against interfering, busybodies, Adam gaped at him, startled. "Did I really look like I was courting her?" Adam asked.

Randor shook his head reassuringly. "No, it looked as if two people who had loved each other for a long time had finally come to realize the fact." He sighed. "Adam, you do love her, and I know you want to be with her."

"It won't last. She's bound to realize that she's made a mistake."

His father shook his head. "Adam, Teela loves you."

Adam shook his head. "How can I count on that lasting?" he said. He shrugged, drying off hastily. "Half, if not more than half of what she's feeling now is based more on guilt than on any solid foundation. Once she gets past that, she'll realize that I'm still the same man I was two weeks ago and wonder what came over her. If we're married by then, it would be disastrous."

"I think you misjudge her, son," his father said, and Adam found himself giving the king a dour look that he strove to repress before his father could read it. From the expression on his father's face, he failed dismally. "We have made mistakes, son, both of us, but please, try to forgive us our failings."

"Father, I don't think she's going to go back to the . . ." He grimaced. "There's no way to put this politely, to the shrew she's been the last few years, but I do think that she's overcompensating. She acted like she hated me for three years, and the Elders know how long she'll feel this way, but I'm not trusting anything till she's settled down a bit. If this lasts longer than a year, maybe then I'll believe it, but the fact is it's a lot easier to be mean than it is to be nice." He pulled on fresh undershorts. "I'm just not willing to . . ." He swallowed and shook his head.

"There's no reason to rush anything, Adam," Randor said with a smile. "None at all."

"Except for the ever present need for heirs," Adam pointed out with a grimace, and his father's eyebrows knit.

"Somehow, that's not high on my list of priorities, Adam." Their eyes met for a long moment, and Adam actually believed him. Randor was more concerned about Adam than about Adam's potential offspring.. Obviously, his father had lost his mind. A kingdom without heirs was an unstable kingdom by definition. His father pulled Adam out of his thoughts by putting his hands on his shoulders. Adam swallowed, wondering what revelation was coming now. "I want you to be happy, son," he said. "And I want to rebuild our relationship if that's possible."

"Anything's possible," Adam said, breaking away and scrubbing at his hair again to get it dry. When he saw his father's face, he regretted his flippancy, but it was too late to retract the words. He turned his back, hiding his reaction. "It's hard, Father, I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing to me for?" his father asked. "I'm the one who's been so hard on you for the last five years."

Adam shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said, trying to make the words an apology for his earlier offhand remark. Randor turned away. "Do you know when we're due to go to the concert?"

"In about twenty minutes," his father said gruffly.

"Wasn't Mother going to send in some clothes?"

His father shrugged. "Sit down and let me comb your hair." Adam did as he was bid and found a great deal of comfort in the sensation. And the closeness.

The door opened and Man-at-Arms came in carrying a pile of clothes. Adam looked up and all the relaxation he'd gained fled instantly. His father stilled briefly in the combing, then continued, and Adam wondered if he'd be asking about that later.

From the way he straightened, Duncan recognized Adam's sudden tension, too. He cleared his throat. "Your mother sent me, your highness," he said solemnly. "She asked me to bring you some clothing."

Adam stood up and took the garments, stepping away to change. He heard his father talking quietly with Man-at-Arms, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. They were probably discussing him and his foibles, and Man-at-Arms was not telling his father what the source of it all was. Adam pulled on his tunic and trousers and turned around to look for his shoes, pretending not to notice the conversation going on by the door.

He pulled on his shoes. "We ready?"

"Of course, Adam," his father said.

"I'd better get back to work," Duncan said. He bowed slightly to Adam and left.

"What's gone wrong between you and Duncan, Adam?" his father asked.

Adam took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Father," he said, hoping he could leave it at that. After all, he could hardly tell him Duncan was part of the stress they were trying to alleviate without explaining why. And sending Duncan way, which would be the obvious solution, would definitely not help in this one. Adam looked pleadingly at his father, begging him to let it go.

Randor snorted. "What a surprise," he remarked, but he said it as a joke. Well, I suppose now wouldn't be the time in any case. I just worry. You two have always been thick as thieves."

"Let's go, Dad," Adam said. "We don't want to keep our guests waiting."

* * *

"We fly now!" Skeletor commanded, leaping a-griffonback. Evil-Lyn followed suit as did the others. She glanced over at Tri-Klops, but he was gazing forward. This was insane. Skeletor was determined to capture He-Man, again, though what he planned to do with the muscle-bound hero was anyone's guess. Kill him, she supposed, though that seemed almost too tame for the 'overlord of evil.'

He-Man hadn't shown up for the last two attacks they had staged on Eternian targets. Perhaps Skeletor thought that by attacking the palace, he could draw He-Man out of hiding. Little did he know that the man was on suicide watch in the palace infirmary.

She became aware of Skeletor's regard abruptly. "Evil-Lyn, I want you to immobilize as many of the Masters as you can. There is a concert tonight for the royal family, so I imagine a number of them will be there, and they'll probably be clumped together. Focus on keeping them out of the fight."

"Yes, Lord Skeletor," she replied, and he let out a cackle of laughter.

"If I can't get He-Man, perhaps I can seize Randor!"

Evil-Lyn watched him fly on ahead of her. If he did seize Randor, she had no doubt whatsoever that they would see a very angry He-Man shortly thereafter, suicide watch or no.

* * *

Teela sat beside Adam, giving him periodic nervous glances. His alarming announcement aside, he seemed to be having a very good time. His mother and father sat to the side, making this clearly Adam's concert, and Teela felt very much the center of unfriendly attention. A number of the court beauties were glaring at her, and she could almost feel the scheming from here.

_Never mind, _she thought. _It doesn't matter. All that matters now is Adam._ He glanced over at her and smiled uncertainly. She smiled back, and he relaxed slightly.

The music was lovely. Reisha was deft and sure on her instrument of choice, the harp. She sang in a mellow alto, songs of love and contentment, songs of melancholy loss, songs of joy. Teela wished she'd concentrate on the contentment and joy part and skip the loss. Adam didn't really need to be thinking along those lines just now.

Reisha finished a set and stood up to take a break. True to his orders, Adam did not rise to mingle with the court, and Teela stayed with him to keep him company. Not that there was any lack of company.

"Prince Adam, your highness, would you care to take a walk in the moonlight?" asked Lady Darla.

Adam smiled pleasantly up at her but shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not to stir from this chair, my lady," he said. "Healer's orders."

"Are you still so ill?" she asked. "You look exceptionally well."

Teela managed to control her urge to roll her eyes at this blatant flattery. Not that Lady Darla was wrong, Adam looked marvelous in his finery, but she was laying it on with a trowel.

"At this point it's more a question of avoiding a relapse," Adam said. "And since I'm very bored with the infirmary, I think I'll do as Healer Dorgan says."

"The sooner he's satisfied, the sooner you're out," Darla replied, raising elegant eyebrows.

"Exactly." Adam's eyes widened and he leaned around Darla, who turned to see what was happening behind her. Two servants were bringing out an enormous floor harp. Up till now, Reisha had been playing a lap harp. Teela recognized this instrument. It was from the palace music room. She glanced over at the queen who was talking to the chamberlain. Adam smiled. "We're in for a treat," he said. "Mother invited her to practice this morning."

"She must be very skilled," Teela murmured.

"Mother said she sounded excellent," Adam said. "I'm looking forward to it."

Reisha returned, a hush fell over the room, and Darla returned to her seat. Reisha played an arpeggio that sent shivers down Teela's spine. Adam settled into his seat with an anticipatory sigh. Teela was glad to see him so happy.

Reisha began a lighthearted tune that had Teela's toes tapping instantly, but then a momentous crash shook the palace. The hall was open to the night air with simple shields to keep insects and birds out. A bolt of violet energy fried the shield, and in flew four of Skeletor's henchmen on griffins. They jumped off and set to causing mayhem. Evil-Lyn immediately cast a spell that landed somewhere behind Teela. She reached for her staff and didn't find it. Somehow it hadn't seemed appropriate with a court gown. Instead, she flipped the skirt up and drew a blaster from a concealed holster as she turned to see all but one of the other Masters penned in by a spell of some kind. Evil-Lyn was standing ten feet away, very focused.

Court folk were screaming and running in all directions, no wonder, with Beastman looming to her left. The king crossed swords with Tri-Klops on her right, and a couple of the guards were helping Mekanek fend off Trap Jaw. She was dimly aware of Adam trying to calm folk and guide them towards the exits, and she wished he'd take one of those exits himself. He needed to be out of here. She could hear the sound of skysleds on the way, but the battle for her was here and now. She had her eye on Evil-Lyn. She took aim, but an idiotic man bumbled into her in his fear, nearly knocking her over. She kept her balance and the blaster, and managed to fend him off, but as she took aim again, she heard a cackle of laughter behind her and to her left. Whirling, she turned to see something that made her heart plummet.

Adam was draped over Skeletor's shoulder, clearly unconscious, and the skull-faced monster was flying away. Teela took aim, but she didn't dare fire for fear of hitting Adam, or of causing Skeletor to drop the prince to his death in the courtyard below.

Skysleds that had been heading for the hall abruptly changed course, but Teela wasn't surewhat they'd be able to do. She heard a nearby guard's radio crackle with her father's voice. "Injured Adam is better than no Adam. Don't let him be taken to Snake Mountain."

The griffins swooped back in and the henchmen leapt on. Teela watched them go with her heart in her throat. Her first opportunity to protect Adam from the evils of the world, and she had failed dismally. She didn't even have time to get to a skysled and go after him.

* * *

Duncan flew as fast as he dared, dodging bolts from minions. Ram-Man had Beastman occupied and . . . there, yes. Stratos was distracting Tri-Klops. That left Evil-Lyn and Trap Jaw. The witch cast spells over her shoulder at every opportunity. The other masters had been at the concert and would consequently be late off the mark if they were even able to join the fight. It had been a short attack, fast in, fast out. Only good fortune had gotten them there in time to see Skeletor winging away with his prisoner.

Now Skeletor dove into the Vine Jungle and Duncan followed. The skysled should make for easier maneuvering amid the close packed trees and vines. Too late, though, he saw Clawful and Merman rise, a net spreading between them. He leapt off the skysled in order to avoid being entrapped with the machine, then whirled to face the sea-going minions, aware that his chance of catching up to Adam was now sunk beyond recall. He had to hope that Ram Man, Stratos and the other guards would have better luck.

* * *

When Tri-Klops suddenly disengaged from the fight and leapt aboard his flying beast, Randor had no idea what had changed. He'd heard a cackle, but that was Skeletor's battle cry. He spun to see that all the minions had left. When he didn't see his son in the crowd, it didn't immediately alarm him. Adam ran from fights when he was armed. Surely he'd have the sense to flee when he was defenseless. His gaze, however, was drawn to track what everyone else in the hall was watching. His mouth went dry when he saw the figure of his son being carried away by Skeletor.

Teela shot past him towards the hangar, skirts held high, and he gave chase. She was lighter, younger and had healthy knees, so she was gone by the time he arrived. He was just taking off when he got a call from Duncan.

"Sire, we failed," he said, his voice flat with anger and worry. "Skeletor has reached Snake Mountain, and they are fortified."

"Have you any hope at all of getting him out as your forces stand now?" Randor asked.

"No sire," Duncan said heavily.

Randor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Leave sentries to watch for any activity and fall back. We need to regroup and plan." He heard Duncan's acknowledgement and the orders posting the sentries, but his mind was otherwise occupied. Adam was in terrible danger, and in his current state of mind . . . he'd shown himself angry and impulsive with the people he cared about. How would he behave around Skeletor?

The other masters arrived in the hangar shortly after Randor had ordered the retreat. There they waited with their king. Teela was the first to return, naturally. Randor half expected her to be angry with him for calling the forces back, but she said nothing. She just paced. Randor envied her the release. Kings could not pace in public. Kings had to stand still and look stern.


End file.
